The Cards We Are Dealt
by FishwichForMyLove
Summary: Royal unions rarely have anything to do with love. This fact upsets both Alfred, future King of the House of Spades, and his unwilling betrothed, Arthur. The measure of a great King is not how wisely he ruled, but how deeply he loved.  Cardverse AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Belsiret over on tumblr requested some M-rated cardverse! The M-rating will come in later, I promise. Until then it is going to be abhorrently fluffy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters associated with Hetalia. **

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><p>Alfred was six years old when his father died. He was six and half when his mother followed after. The doctors said she had been struck by a terrible pneumonia and in the weakness of her grief at her husband's passing, she had been unable to fight the illness. But Alfred knew better. He knew the truth.<p>

His mother, Virginia, the Queen of Spades, devoted wife of George, the King of Spades, had died of a broken heart. She had been sick with it long before his father died. Alfred may have only been six years old, but he understood that his father had not loved his mother. He understood that his brother, Matthew, was only his half brother, and that he was the son of the woman his father had truly loved. He understood that that had killed his mother, not pneumonia.

Alfred also understood that, someday, he would be king. Six years old, and he already had the weight of an entire court coming down upon his head. He would have to learn fast, grow quickly and become a king that his people could be proud of.

People, especially the Jack of Spades and current Regent, Yao Wang, said that Alfred looked just like his father. Alfred would often stare at the portrait of his father hanging in the throne room gallery, trying to decide if he agreed. While he had often seen his own face living and moving in the reflection of his mirror, Alfred had rarely seen his father while he was alive. Royal parenting was hands-off at best, and Alfred could recall being around King George less than a handful of times before he died. It was hard to tell from the mass of brush strokes and canvas whether or not Alfred was anything like his father at all aside from the dirty blonde hair and the wide blue eyes.

Alfred almost didn't want to be like his father. Everyone called him a great man and just King and a wise member of the Deck Council, but Alfred didn't understand how a man could be great or just or wise and not love his own wife. He told Yao this one day about a year after his parents' deaths while they sat in the garden. Alfred was supposed to be practising his penmanship but as usual his focus began to wander and he began to ask questions of his tutor.

"That is not the way it is, your Highness. Love is not a factor in unions such as what your esteemed parents had. To say your father was not a good King because he did not love his Queen is foolish. Romantic feelings should not bear any significance in the effectiveness of any monarch's leadership. Do you understand?" Yao corrected Alfred's grip on the calligraphy pen as he spoke, pushing at the young boy's hand until he began writing again.

"No. I don't get it. Aren't you supposed to marry someone you love? That's what all the fairy tales say. You go find a princess and you fall in love and you get married and everyone is happy. You can't really be a king until you do that, right?"

Yao sighed and patted Alfred's head. "I'm sorry your Highness, but real life simply does not work the way that fairy tales do. Those stories are sweet and comforting, I am sure, but they are just that. Stories only. Your Highness must think of marriage as a business partnership. It is for the good of the kingdom and to the benefit of the Deck Council to arrange a powerful match, but neither partner is under obligation to love the other. It is a legal agreement only."

Alfred pouted and accidentally stabbed the nib of his pen through the parchment. "Well that seems stupid. I don't want to have to marry someone I don't love. Common people don't have to, right? Why do they get a choice and I don't? Aren't I going to be King?"

Clucking his tongue and supplying Alfred with a new sheet of parchment, Yao rolled his eyes in frustration. "Your Highness doesn't get to do what common people do precisely _because_ you are going to be King. There is a higher standard of conduct and expectation for royalty."

"That's not fair!" Alfred wailed despondently.

"The cards we are dealt rarely are. I'm sorry your Highness. Now, do you think you could focus on the task at hand? It is very important business for the Kingdom."

Alfred sniffled dramatically, but nodded his head.

Yao smiled gently at him and laid a letter next to the blank sheet of parchment. "I need you to copy this letter in your best handwriting and place your signature at the bottom. You are not King yet, but your name carries much weight and this letter is vital to your future."

"What is it about?" Alfred's previous dismay was put aside by his burning curiosity. Yao was going to let him write an official letter. This was serious business indeed.

Yao coughed awkwardly and looked away. "Well, you needn't worry about it yet. It's something that will impact the House of Spades years from now, so it would be best to wait until you're older for an explanation."

"If I can't know now, why am I doing it now?" Alfred whined, putting his chin in his hands with a frown.

"It is a time sensitive matter, your Highness. We must do it now, or lose the opportunity to benefit from the situation. Now, just copy the words as they are on the page. You can do it, your Highness."

Alfred tried to sound out the flowery words in his head, but he didn't understand most of it. There were big words like "illustrious" and "advantageous" and "betrothal", that even if he did manage to read them, they didn't mean anything to him. Concentrating fully now, Alfred began to copy the letter as neatly as he could, his tongue peeking out the side of his mouth from the effort. He wrote the first line and paused to admire how well he had done.

_ To the most noble family, Kirkland, of the House of Spades_

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><p>Arthur Kirkland knew from an early age that he shouldn't expect much from life. He was the second-born of a wealthy nobleman and as such it would be his lot in life to support his older brother and serve him when he inherited the family title. That suited Arthur perfectly, to be quite frank. He could benefit from his family's prestige without having to do much to uphold it. While it did mean that he would never be independent and that his accomplishments would always be over shadowed by those of his brother, it also meant that he would have much more personal freedom. No one cared what the second-born was studying or liked to do. No one cared if the second-born got married and had fine children to continue the family bloodline. Arthur could live as he pleased provided that he stay out of everyone's way.<p>

Currently he was practising his violin out by the pond in the garden. It was his favourite spot to escape to, both because of the quiet and the multitude of faeries that lived in the water and amongst the flowerbeds and trees. Arthur had always been able to see and speak to them. His mother had had the Gift when she was younger, but had grown out of it by the time she was a teenager. At twelve years old, Arthur's abilities seemed to be strengthening rapidly, but no one took much notice. The House of Spades was the most technologically advanced of the four Houses of the Deck Council, so Gifts such as Arthur's were not highly valued. It was seen as backwards to indulge such abilities, but Arthur couldn't bear the idea of parting with the lovely company of the spirits and beings to whom he had grown so attached.

Arthur laughed as he bowed the violin confidently, watching as a young water sprite twirled merrily across the surface of the pond, leaving the faintest of ripples in her wake. Several more faeries were singing nonsense lyrics in the weeping willow above him, improvising and elaborating on the tune Arthur was playing. He was just getting to the difficult portion of the song when he heard a shrill scream come from inside the house. Arthur bolted inside, terrified of the catastrophe he might find when he arrived.

Instead of a catastrophe he found his mother, and father in the parlour. His father was reading over a letter, the top half drooping from the weight of a large and very important looking wax seal while is mother wept in apparent joy.

"What's going on? Mother why did you scream?" Arthur grasped his mother's hands and led her to sit on one of the plush sofas. He didn't think it could be remotely healthy for his very pregnant mother to be in such hysterics.

Arthur's mother wiped the tears from her face, then kissed Arthur on both cheeks. "You wonderful boy! Today is your lucky day! Today is _our_ lucky day!"

Bewildered, Arthur looked to his father for explanation, but he was still reading the letter, one hand rubbing his chin in deep consideration.

"Mother, what are you talking about? I don't understand."

Arthur's mother took several breaths to clam herself, smoothing the flyaway hairs at her temples and arranging her long golden braid over her shoulder. Still smiling, but much calmer, she reached out to stroke Arthur's cheek lovingly.

"We've had a letter from the King."

"We haven't got a King yet, mother. Isn't he still a baby?"

Arthur's mother made a face. "No. I mean, yes, he is young, but he's hardly a baby. He's eight years old now."

"Either way, he's still not actually the King yet." Arthur crossed his arms smartly.

"Fine. We've got a letter from the future King and his Regent, the Jack of Spades. Is that better?"

"Yes."

"Arthur, you aren't making this very easy." His mother was visibly less excited than before.

"Well, I wish you would just tell me what all the fuss is about instead of going on about some royal brat."

His mother gasped, her eyes flitting to Arthur's father and the letter. "Arthur Kirkland, mind how you speak! His Highness is to be your-"

"Elizabeth, be quiet!" Arthur's father interrupted her, his tone harsh. Arthur rarely heard his father speak like that to anyone, let alone his own wife.

Arthur's father turned toward him and looked him straight in the eye. "You know your place in this family, don't you Arthur?" Arthur nodded solemnly. "You understand that as the second-born, there are very few opportunities for advancement that I or anyone else can secure for you?" Another nod. "Good. Then I expect complete obedience on this matter. You have been given high praise, boy, higher than this family could have ever expected and you are to accept his Highness' offer without question." Arthur's father handed him the letter. "Read it."

As Arthur's eyes scanned the page, he felt panic begin to rise in his chest. He had to read the letter over twice, willing himself to slow down the second time, just to be sure that he had understood. Eyes now pricking with tears, Arthur looked desperately at his father.

"What? Why me?"

"Our family is very powerful, Arthur. It is smart match, if I may say so."

"Surely there must be someone else? Someone from another noble family? I'm so much older than he is!" Arthur didn't even bother to stop the hot tears from spilling over and running down his cheeks.

"Come now, love, this is hardly something to cry over!" His mother took the letter from between his shaking fingers, folding it neatly and setting it next to her on the sofa as if to protect it from water damage. "Four years isn't old at all! Your father is seven years older than I am. It will all work out fine, you'll see."

Collapsing to his knees, Arthur shamelessly laid his head in his mother's lap and continued his weeping. "If four years isn't a big difference then why aren't they asking for Andrew?"

Fingers combed soothingly through his hair, but Arthur remained miserable. "Don't be daft, Arthur. Andrew is still a toddler. You should be flattered that you were asked for personally."

"Well I'm not! It's not fair."

"The cards we are dealt rarely are," his father said sternly.

"I don't care! I don't want to marry Alfred and I don't want to be Queen!"

Arthur felt himself being yanked back to his feet by fingers gripping the front of his shirt. He was face to face with his enraged father, and the scare of being handled so roughly only made Arthur more hysterical.

"You promised your obedience! You do not get a choice in this matter! This is a great honour for you and for this family and I will not have you destroy it with your selfishness, Arthur. Now. You will compose yourself. You will come to my study when you have done so, and I will instruct you in writing a reply to his Highness. Then you will begin to pack your things. His Highness has requested that if you find the match agreeable, you will move into the palace in a week's time. You find the match agreeable, Arthur. Do we have an understanding?"

"Henry!" Arthur felt himself being pulled back into his mother's embrace. "There's no need to be so harsh with him. I'm as grateful as you are, but this has obviously come as quite a shock to the poor boy."

"No, mother, it's fine!" Arthur took a deep breath and wiped the itchy tears from his cheeks. "I understand." All life had gone from his voice and he felt an eery calm spread throughout his body.

"Good. Come along, now."

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a blur. As Arthur laid in bed that night, he could hardly recall any of what had happened after the hysteria in the parlour. He vaguely remembered writing out a letter and signing his name shakily at the bottom, but he couldn't remember any of what the letter had actually said. He'd sat morosely at dinner, pushing his food around his plate to disguise the fact that he couldn't eat with the way his stomach was twisting in knots. He could just barely recall the servants being ordered to launder all his best clothing and begin packing it into trunks with sweet smelling herbs. His older brother's congratulations seemed like misty and incomprehensible things now that he was alone in the dark of his bedroom.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Arthur said softly to himself, fresh tears welling up.

A faint flickering outside his window alerted Arthur to the presence of one of the garden faeries. She tapped a tiny fist on the glass, her gossamer pink dress of spider silk and flower petals bobbing gently as she fluttered. Normally, Arthur would have let her in and she would have curled up next to him on the pillow, telling him secrets and kissing the tip of his nose.

But tonight, nothing felt normal and Arthur rolled over and drew the covers up over his head, screwing his eyes shut, unwilling to shed one more tear over someone he could never love.

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><p><strong>AN: This story will probably be between three and five chapters. There isn't going to be much politics involved; it's basically a romance story. **

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! **


	2. Chapter 2

The journey to the Spade Palace took over two hours by coach. Arthur sat in misery the entire time, not even bothering to watch through the window as the well groomed lawns of his family's estate melted into quaint farmland before exploding into the metropolitan chaos of the city centre. The constant rocking motion of the carriage combined with the deathly silence of the journey was making Arthur sick to his stomach. He was accompanied only by his father; the family physician thought it unwise for Arthur's mother to be venturing out of the house so late in her pregnancy. His father never spoke to him once in the duration of their travels and Arthur was unsure if it was from residual disappointment at Arthur's reaction to the proposal, or whether he simply had nothing left to say on the matter. Arthur desperately wished that his father would give him some advice, some final, parting guidance to help him understand what he was supposed to do now that he would be Queen.

Queen. Arthur's stomach twisted violently as he thought of his future title. He knew from his beginning studies of politics that gender had little to do with titles of the royal family. They had had significance in the earliest beginnings of the kingdom, before the four suit houses were peaceful and unified by the creation of the Deck Council; hundreds of years ago, royalty was determined by pedigree. Now the leaders of each house were chosen by the previous King and Queen upon their resignation. Since King George and Queen Virginia had failed to name a successor before their deaths, their only child would be the default heir.

As much as Arthur didn't want them to, his thoughts wandered in the direction of his betrothed. Surely Alfred could have no idea of the gravity of what was about to happen. Arthur himself was still a child and knowing full well the confusion he was battling, he could only imagine what the young King-to-be could be feeling. He felt sorry for Alfred. His entire life was decided before he could have a say in it and he had unknowingly brought Arthur to that same fate.

Feeling foolish for it, Arthur hoped his intended wouldn't be ugly or stupid. It was a vain hope, and impractical, but Arthur couldn't help feeling that if he was going to be stuck with Alfred for the rest of his life, he should be allowed to wish for a somewhat pleasing partner. And partners is all that they would be; not friends, not lovers, just partners with an understanding that their union served only to benefit the political standing of the House of Spades. The only love in their marriage would be love for their people, and Arthur wasn't sure if he could muster even that since it was the needs of those very people that had ripped him from having any choice in his future.

It was late afternoon by the time the coach pulled through the well-paved, winding streets leading to the palace courtyard. Arthur was relieved that there were few people about. He had been half afraid that some fanfare would be made at his arrival, but it seemed that the only people milling about were a handful of women and children selling produce and knick-knacks outside the palace gate, two sets of guards dressed in traditional tunics bearing the colours and emblem of the House of Spades, and a similarly dressed girl about Arthur's age standing at the steps of the entryway.

As the coach pulled up, Arthur's father cleared his throat, but didn't remove his gaze from the window. "If you don't think you'll be able to say anything pleasant, I would prefer you didn't speak. Whatever you feel about all this, I expect you to behave graciously."

"Yes, father." Arthur picked some imaginary lint from his trousers, trying to rearrange his expression before the carriage door would inevitably open.

Stepping out into the courtyard, Arthur could see that more of the palace staff had gathered on the steps. An attendant greeted his father regally, and after a brief exchange, instructed the rest of the servants to begin retrieving Arthur's luggage and taking it to his new room. The girl Arthur had seen earlier was talking animatedly to their carriage driver, but she stopped mid-sentence when she noticed Arthur was looking at her. She looked back for a moment before smiling politely and bowing.

Arthur flushed up to his ears at the realization that this breathtakingly beautiful girl was, in fact, a boy. His face was delicate and feminine, but now that he was up close, Arthur could see the budding masculinity in the boy's shoulders and large hands. Still, the boy was beautiful, with his wide violet-blue eyes framed by translucent lashes, and his chin-length curly blonde hair half pulled back from his face. Arthur noted that though he was obviously a stable boy or something of that nature, he still carried himself elegantly and Arthur wondered who he was. He was so caught up in watching as the boy led the driver and carriage around the other side of the courtyard to the stables, that he nearly jumped out of his skin when his father put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him toward the palace door.

The head servant led them through a series of hallways, and occasionally other members of the house staff would appear in doorways, pausing to bow their heads as Arthur passed. Arthur was becoming nervous again, the clicking of his own polished boots against the white marble floors driving him insane as he half trotted to keep up. The palace was so quiet; eery almost, and Arthur found himself already longing for the chaos of his own home and younger brothers.

Finally, they reached a set of large golden doors. Arthur gulped and fidgeted with his clothing. Although he usually enjoyed looking his best, everything felt itchy and hot, and his hat was beginning to give him a headache. His pale grey vest and jacket felt constricting enough that he began to have trouble drawing full breaths. Arthur was nearly light-headed by the time he was ushered into the next room.

Arthur had to endure another long walk down the length of the throne room. On the far end of the room, in front of a giant stained-glass wall featuring the emblems of the House of Spades in brilliant blue and white glass, there was a plush, velvet carpeted dais upon which sat two golden thrones. A man stood at the centre of the dais, dressed in rich looking silk robes with elaborate embroidery. No one was seated in the smaller of the two thrones, but the larger one was occupied by a small boy who was swinging his feet back and forth in boredom.

"Welcome, Lord Kirkland. I am Yao Wang, Jack of Spades and Regent for Alfred, future King of Spades. We are so pleased you and your son have come to court."

Here, Arthur's father removed his hat and bowed deeply at the waist and Arthur took that as his cue to follow suit. It was a challenge, but Arthur managed to keep his eyes averted instead of staring directly at the young boy he assumed was his intended.

"Thank you for your invitation. We are most flattered by his Highness' generous proposal. I, on behalf of my son Arthur and the entire Kirkland family, accept this contract with utmost gratitude."

The Jack of Spades came forward smiling and extended his hand warmly to Lord Kirkland. He then turned to Arthur, his grin becoming a bit gentler and less formal than it had been with his father.

"And you are Arthur, are you not? I have heard much about you. You carry the Gift, if I recall correctly."

Arthur swallowed the sudden excess of saliva in his mouth and nodded solemnly. "Yes, sir, I do."

Yao patted him cheerfully on his shoulder, either not noticing or not caring to notice the way Arthur flinched. "That is wonderful. I think it is high time such talents were recognized and used for the good of the kingdom. There is no reason we cannot mix the ways of the old and new, I think."

"That is very wisely said, Jack," Arthur's father said, apparently grateful that his son's oddity would not be a point of contention in solidifying the marriage contract.

The entire group turned to the throne when they heard the loud sigh of boredom come pouring out of Alfred, legs still swinging a good two feet above the floor.

"Ah, yes. If I may present his Highness, the future King of Spades, Alfred. You Highness, this is Arthur Kirkland. He will be staying with us here in the palace from now on."

Alfred hopped down from the throne happily and practically skipped down the steps to stand in front of Arthur. He rocked back and forth on his toes, grinning and bright-eyed. Arthur was surprised at how lively and healthy the boy was. His hair was golden and shining, blue eyes clear and wide, and his complexion was rosier than the infirm, milquetoast image Arthur had somehow concocted in his head. He'd half been expecting a pasty lapdog of a child, but Alfred seemed to be about as playful and well-adjusted as a child of royalty could be.

"Hello! It's nice to meet you! I'm Alfred."

Arthur bowed again, lower this time, wringing his hat in his hands and murmuring a tentative greeting.

Alfred giggled sweetly. "You don't have to do the bowing thing if you're going to live here. We can be friends!"

The adults laughed and Yao placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder, proud of how charming the young royal was being. Arthur didn't have the stomach to be amused by Alfred's demeanour, waves of nausea washing through his abdomen.

"So why are you going to live here, anyway?"

Arthur raised his head in shock. Alfred had no idea why he was here? He looked to the Jack of Spades in panic, and it was clear from his sombre face and the subtle shaking of his head that he did not wish for Arthur to divulge the purpose of his presence. Trying to think of a way to answer the young royal's question without lying or giving too much information, Arthur's eyes flitted from Alfred's smiling face to the Jack's frowning one, to the the smaller throne that would some day be his, and back again.

"I, uh, I have been summoned as a... as a... _companion_ to your Highness." A strong twist in Arthur's stomach made him gag slightly, but he breathed heavily through his nose in an effort to assuage the sensation.

"Really?" Oh wow! That's so exciting!"

Arthur couldn't hold it in anymore. His face flushed, then drained of blood, leaving him feeling clammy and dizzy. His eyes rolled closed for a moment before he brought the hat in his hands up to his mouth and retched miserably into it. Arthur felt his eyes well up with embarrassed tears as he vomited, squeezing them shut to avoid seeing what must have been the mortified faces of the adults in the room.

"Ewww." Alfred said, trying not to laugh.

"Oh for heaven's sake, boy!" Arthur's father cried. "I apologize for my son, your Highness. The journey must have made him ill."

The Jack called for a servant to escort Arthur to his new quarters. "There is no need to apologize, Lord Kirkland. I had hoped that making little fuss about his arrival would help to make this transition easier, but I can see he is very upset. It is quite understandable, all things considered. Now, if you would follow me to sign the contract papers, the house staff will see to it that Arthur is taken care of and rests."

In a sudden flurry of activity Arthur found himself relieved of his soiled hat and whisked away through several hallways and until he reached the chambers that would be his new living space. He barely had time to take in the details of his rooms before he was pulled into the bathroom and stripped to his undergarments. The woman attending him began to run water into a giant white tub with gold claw-feet. She sprinkled something sweet and minty smelling into the water from a tin on the shelves lining the walls, then took Arthur's face between her hands, feeling his forehead and sweaty cheeks.

"You are a pale thing, aren't you? A little nervous, were we dear?" She tucked Arthur's fringe behind his ears and massaged his temples lightly. It felt so good that Arthur forgot to feel self-conscious about standing in his underwear in front of a woman he didn't even know.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, there's no need to apologize. These things happen. Now, Arthur, you just sit right in this tub for a while and relax. When you feel like you're ready to come out, there are towels and a robe right in this cupboard here, alright? Don't rush. The Jack has asked that we let you rest until supper. If you feel like you're going to be sick again, just call. I'll be right in the other room."

Arthur murmured a thank you as the maid patted him fondly on the cheek and left him to his own devices. Stripping the rest of the way and sinking into the warm water, Arthur scooted himself down into the tub just far enough that he was covered, but not getting his hair wet. Whatever the maid had sprinkled into the water was soothing his stomach and making his skin tingle. It felt nice and Arthur let himself sit thoughtlessly in the water until it began to lose it's warmth. He let the tub drain as he dried himself, putting his undergarments back on and wrapping himself in one of the plush robes in the bathroom. He padded back into the adjacent room, noting now that it was a bedroom with a giant, downy looking four-poster bed with elegant silver silk curtains. The entire bed was a mass of blue and white pillows and beautifully embroidered thick blankets. It looked like heaven to Arthur and he wanted nothing more than to take a running leap into it and never get out.

The maid entered from the front room with a tray bearing a small tea-pot, a cup and plate with a large slice of buttered bread on it. She turned down the bedding and made Arthur sit propped up against the head board, pouring him a cup of tea and laying the tray across his lap.

"Drink this. It will make you feel better. And nibble on a little something, will you? You're such a skinny little thing, it's breaking my heart."

Arthur smiled. "Thank you. You've been very kind to me."

The maid laughed. "Well, how else am I supposed to treat my future Queen?"

Arthur's face fell, and the maid realized the mistake she'd made, bowing her head.

"I'm sorry. I know this must be hard for you. I should not have spoken that way."

"It's alright."

Arthur drank his tea and ate as much of the bread as he could manage. The tea was unlike any of the perfumed concoctions his mother served; it was a strange green colour and tasted earthy, but Arthur found it pleasant and quite effective at ridding him of his nausea. When he was finished, the maid removed the tray and tucked him into the plush bed. She retrieved a sachet from one of the drawers of the night stand and laid it across Arthur's eyes.

"Just relax. Sleep, if you'd like. I'll wake you when it's time to dress for supper."

The sachet was comfortingly heavy on Arthur's face and the intoxicating scent of the herbs inside lulled him into sleep almost immediately. For the first time that day, Arthur felt at peace, even if in the back of his mind he knew it was only temporary.

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><p>Dinner was as equally awkward for Arthur as all the events leading up to it. The Jack had invited his father to stay for dinner before returning to the Kirkland manor; Arthur found himself still being ignored. The two adults were involved in a passionate discussion about the potential steam had as an energy source for the development of more efficient travel, and Alfred, who was seated across from Arthur, was either making faces at him or ignoring him all together in favour of paying attention to his food. It seemed the young royal had quite an impressive appetite for his age.<p>

Arthur ate a little of everything on his plate, but his returning melancholy was making it difficult for him to eat as much as he should. He began to absentmindedly roll a cherry tomato around his plate with his fork.

"Y'know, you have really big eyebrows."

Arthur looked up to see Alfred mimicking his facial features by holding three fingers above each eye. Frowning, Arthur didn't say anything and went back to playing with the tomato, albeit a bit more violently.

"Well, I didn't mean that like a bad thing. They look nice on you. They're just really big."

Shrugging, Arthur didn't look up from his plate.

"Do you still feel sick?"

Arthur shook his head.

"Don't you like tomatoes?"

It seemed Alfred was determined to have him speak. Arthur sighed and put his fork down.

"Not particularly, your Highness."

"Oh. I think they're yummy."

Alfred glanced over at the two adults still involved in their discussion, making sure neither one of them was looking before he sat forward and reached across the table, spearing Arthur's tomato with his fork and then popping it into his mouth with a grin.

Arthur couldn't help smiling a little in return.

"Do you like carrots?"

"Yes, your Highness, I do like carrots."

"Really? I think they're gross." Alfred's face lit up. "Arthur, we should make a deal! From now on you can have all my carrots and I can have your tomatoes!"

Arthur laughed and nodded his head. "That sounds like a wonderful idea your Highness. I can agree to that proposal."

"Yay!"

"What are you two talking about?" Yao had turned his attention back to the children.

"Nothing. We're just being friends, Yao," Alfred bragged, shooting Arthur a secretive smile.

"Well, that's wonderful your Highness! But I do believe it is time for us to say goodnight."

Arthur's father stood and bowed. "Yes, I should be heading back to the manor before it gets too late. Thank you again, your Highness for your hospitality. And you, Jack, for honouring our family in this way."

The adults exchanged pleasantries again, and then Arthur's father turned to him. " Goodbye, Arthur. I do not expect we shall see you again until after your mother is settled with the new baby."

"I'll write to you, father, if you want."

Arthur's father cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yes, uh, that would be lovely, Arthur." He seemed to debate it for a moment but he leaned forward and gave Arthur a stiff hug. "I'm very proud of you. And I know you'll continue to make me proud.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and tried to absorb as much of his father as he could before he would be gone. "I'll try, father. I promise."

A servant escorted his father out, leaving Arthur to sort through his complicated feelings in the presence of people he barely knew. After a long silence, the Jack spoke again.

"Well, come along now. Your Highness, say goodnight to Arthur."

Arthur was expecting to have to bow again, but Alfred came running around the edge of the table and hugged him around his middle, chirping his goodnight before running off again. Arthur and Yao watched in stunned silence as he tore from the dining room, laughing as he went.

"He seems to like you."

Not sure how to respond, Arthur settled for blushing and staring at the carpet.

"I know this must be quite upsetting to you, Arthur. I just hope you and I can become friends. If you need anything, please tell me. I want for you to be happy here. I know Alfred does as well, even if doesn't know why."

"Why didn't you tell him why I've come?"

Yao sighed and smoothed a few strands of his long black hair. "His Highness is still quite young. I do not think he would react well to the news. But I wanted him to meet you as soon as possible to foster your relationship. He has not had many people in his life whom he has loved stay for very long. I want you to be the exception."

Arthur scoffed. "With all due respect, I do not think he will love me, nor do I think I will love him. This is my fate, I understand that. Isn't it enough you have my life? Must you have my heart, too?" Arthur didn't care that he was being flippant; he needed Yao to hear how much this was upsetting him.

"No. You are right. It is not my right to ask that of you, nor is it Alfred's. All I do ask is that you stay. I think you will be good for him, and good for this kingdom."

"And what about what's good for me? Is that not being taken into consideration?"

A sadness washed over the Jack, and he walked solemnly to the door, resting a hand on Arthur's shoulder as he passed.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm sorry it has to be like this."

Arthur closed his eyes as the door clicked shut and he was left alone again.

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><p><strong>AN: Oh boy. Another downer chapter. I promise it gets happier from here. And fluffier. **

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Yeah. So. This is going to end up being longer than 3-5 chapters. Just a head's up. **

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><p>"Why doesn't Arthur have to do lessons?" Alfred grumbled and laid his cheek down on the desk. He poked at the piece of paper in front of his face, letting his pencil fall limp between his fingers. He was supposed to be working on the set of basic mathematic problems Yao had given him, but Alfred was much more interested in finding Arthur. He had seen his new playmate at breakfast, but then Arthur had disappeared when it came time for lessons. Alfred didn't think that was very fair.<p>

"Arthur will have lessons just like you do, your Highness, but I thought he might like some time to adjust to palace life before then."

"But it's nice living here. How much time can he need?"

"I know you are eager to get to know him, but I think a week is a reasonable amount of time to wait, don't you?"

Alfred huffed noisily. "I guess. But what will he do all day?"

"I'm not sure, your Highness." Yao tried to get Alfred's attention back on his work by straightening the paper on his desk, but the young royal refused to lift his head.

"He'll be all by himself! Yao! What is he going to do all by himself?"

"He's not by himself, your Highness. Arthur has servants to attend to anything he needs, just like you do. Perhaps they will give him a tour of the palace."

Alfred lifted his head up at that, then cupped his chin angrily in one hand. "I hope they don't."

"Why not, your Highness?"

"Because I want to do that!"

Yao laughed.

"Don't laugh at me! I'm being serious!"

"I'm sorry your Highness, I know you are. Perhaps if you finish your lessons early today, you can ask Arthur if you may show him around the palace?" Yao pushed the paper towards Alfred once more.

Slamming his hands on the table, Alfred grabbed his pencil and started scribbling as quickly as he could manage. Squinting in concentration, it took only a few minutes for him to finish every problem on the page.

"I'm done!"

Yao shot him a skeptical look. "Now, your Highness, I hope you didn't rush through and make mistakes. You'll just have to go back and correct them."

"I didn't! Look and see."

Alfred watched as Yao checked his answers. Yao frowned and tucked some of his hair behind an ear before looking back at Alfred.

"Well, your Highness, it appears that you have all the correct answers."

"Told you so. Can we go see Arthur now?"

"If that is what you wish, your Highness."

Alfred whooped loudly, excited at the prospect of finally getting to spend time with the mysterious new house-mate, and that his lessons would be over for the day. Running ahead despite Yao's admonishments ringing out behind him, Alfred tore through the hallways leading to Arthur's room. He knew which one it was because he'd heard Yao telling the maids to get the room above the garden ready the day before Arthur had come to court. He'd thought that maybe it meant another Jack or somebody else important would be coming to visit, but Alfred was glad it was Arthur. When other Jacks came to visit it meant that Alfred would have extra lessons, and they wouldn't be easy like mathematics.

Arriving at the door to Arthur's chambers, Alfred tried to catch his breath before knocking cheerfully. One of the maids opened the door and she bowed when she saw Alfred.

"Your Highness. How may I help you?"

"Can I see Arthur? I want to show him the palace!"

The maid looked over her shoulder into the room, biting her lip. "Your Highness, I'm not sure- Oh! Jack!" Yao had finally caught up to Alfred, wheezing slightly and cheeks coloured.

"Jack, I was just about to tell his Highness that I do not think it wise for Arthur to go on a tour of the palace today."

"Why?" Alfred whined.

The maid stepped out of the doorway to whisper something in Yao's ear. Alfred tried to hear what she was saying, standing on tiptoe to get closer, but he couldn't understand a single word.

Yao nodded his head briskly. "I understand. I expected this."

"I think he just needs time." The maid inclined her head awkwardly, wringing her hands.

"Yes, well, let me know if anything changes." Yao gripped Alfred lightly on the shoulder, manoeuvring him away from the door and down the hallway.

Halfway back to the study, Alfred wriggled free of Yao's grasp and started walking backwards in front of him.

"Yao, why can't I see Arthur?"

"He isn't feeling very well, your Highness."

"Oh. Did he throw up again?"

"No, your Highness, he is not that kind of sick."

Alfred frowned and stopped walking. "What kind of sick is he?"

Yao rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully, then knelt down in front of Alfred, robes pooling gracefully on the white marble floor.

"Do you remember how you felt when your esteemed parents passed away, your Highness?"

Alfred looked at his shoes and nodded. "I was sad. And I didn't feel good. Like I was by myself and it made me hurt all right here." He rubbed a hand down his torso, crossing his arms around his stomach.

"That's how Arthur feels."

"Did someone in his family die?"

"No, your Highness."

"Then why does he feel sick?"

"It's complicated, your Highness. Someday you will understand. Let's leave it at that for the moment and return to our lesson. Perhaps if Arthur is feeling better in a few days, you can take him around the palace."

Alfred nodded solemnly and remained subdued for the rest of the afternoon. Arthur didn't come out of his room for dinner, so Alfred knew he must be really sick.

Taking the watercolour paints the Jack of Hearts had given him for his birthday and folding a piece of parchment, Alfred began to make Arthur a card. He wasn't sure what kinds of things Arthur liked, but he knew flowers were supposed to make people feel better when they were sad over something, so he drew a large sunflower on the front. On the inside of the card he wrote "Feel better soon!" in his fanciest handwriting and signed his name. He blew on the card to make sure all the paint was dry and then hid it.

Alfred waited until it was well past his bedtime, after the maid had tucked him in and gone to sleep in the adjacent room. He pretended to be asleep until he was sure everyone else in the castle had gone to bed and then he quietly tiptoed out of his room, card in hand.

The palace was scary and dark at night, but Alfred swallowed his fear and padded his way barefoot through the sleeping halls. He almost ran back to his room when he heard a loud thump, but it was only the palace cats playing on the staircase in the main hall. They really weren't supposed to be inside since they were meant to be ratters, but they liked to sneak in from the kitchen and run around. Alfred wondered briefly if he could catch the big white one and smuggle it into his room to sleep with him, but he knew Yao would be angry, so he just settled for giggling as the cats wrestled playfully with one another before continuing on his mission.

It seemed like it took hours to get to Arthur's room. When he finally got there, Alfred checked to make sure the card was still alright and then slipped it under the door. He waited for a few moments to see if anyone would open the door, but then realized that no one would see the card and give it to Arthur until morning.

Suddenly and very painfully aware of just how dark it was in the palace, Alfred bolted back to his room, trying to get through the door as quietly as he could and diving back into the safety of his bed. He panted heavily under the covers for a few moments, then a silly grin broke out onto his face imagining how happy Arthur would be when he read his card.

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><p>Arthur didn't come out of his rooms for the next three days. Alfred was ready to break down the door and see if he really was sick and Yao was just lying to him, but Yao and the maids and other servants kept patting him on the head and saying things like "He'll come around in his own time" or "He's just fine, your Highness, don't fret" or worse they would just laugh and smile at him like they knew some big secret. He hated getting patted on the head. It made him feel short and not very grown up at all.<p>

The worst part of waiting was that Alfred didn't know if Arthur had ever gotten his card. How was he supposed to feel better if he didn't see the card? Or perhaps Arthur had seen it and it hadn't helped him. Alfred was beginning to feel seriously worried for his new friend. Well, he hadn't seen enough of Arthur to know if they were friends or not, but Alfred didn't hate Arthur, so friend was close enough.

On the fourth day of waiting for Arthur, Yao decided to try and lift the young royal's spirits by taking him out to practice his horseback riding. Alfred wasn't quite coordinated or strong enough to manage completely on his own, but he still thought being led around the giant grassy paddock was great fun. He only ever got to ride the smallest of the older mares since she was so gentle, but he knew that someday he would have a horse of his own and he could race around like Matthew. Alfred was almost jealous that his half brother was so good at riding even though he was only three years older, but then again, Matthew got to spend so much more time with the horses. Matthew would also never be King, so Alfred figured it was a fair trade off.

As he walked through the hallways, Yao trailing behind and already warning him to be careful when they got to the stables, Alfred glanced out the great glass windows letting in light from the garden. No one was out there except for a maid gathering blooms in a basket, but something under one of the big flowering trees caught his attention. Alfred leaned onto the windowsill and squinted, gasping in delight when he saw who was sitting beneath the tree.

"Arthur!" Alfred waved through the window enthusiastically though Arthur didn't look up.

"Your Highness?"

"Yao! Arthur's in the garden!" Not even waiting for a response, Alfred tore down the hallway, determined to finally see Arthur again.

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><p>Arthur had trouble sleeping the first night. His eyes felt itchy and heavy, but no matter how many times he took a deep breath and closed them, he couldn't convince them to stay shut. It wasn't that his mind was a frantic mess like it had been earlier. Instead he seemed to be overcome by a strange calmness, content to just lie in his new bed and stare at the new ceiling above his head in his new home.<p>

The maid was shocked to find him awake when she came in the next morning. Arthur lied when she asked him if he had slept well, not wanting to worry her, but the maid turned his face this way and that with one hand, obviously unconvinced. She didn't say anything, laying out Arthur's clothes and making his bed.

Breakfast was painful albeit uneventful. Arthur nibbled on some toast with marmalade on it, mostly ignoring his porridge. While he wasn't feeling very hungry, it seemed that Alfred's appetite was in no way effected by the change in living arrangements. Arthur had barely choked down half a piece of toast and Alfred was completely finished with his bowl of porridge and had moved on to eating the crusts of his toast and then licking the marmalade off the middle. Arthur cringed at the thought of the sugar Alfred was ingesting; from what little contact Arthur had had with him it seemed that Alfred was inexcusably energetic at all times of day. He doubted the syrupy marmalade would help.

Alfred started humming to himself as he licked off his sticky fingers. The humming got progressively louder until Yao, who had foregone food in favour of tea, rubbed his temples and shot Alfred an annoyed look.

"Your Highness, may I suggest that it is too early for this much noise? If you are finished, why don't we move onto your lessons?"

Arthur watched in silence as Alfred pulled a face but agreed and wandered out of the dining room.

"Arthur, you will be expected to join our lessons as well, but I think perhaps it would be best if you had some time to adjust to your new home first. You are excused for the day. The servants will see to anything you need." Yao's smile was friendly enough, but his nod of dismissal was curt, so Arthur merely said a quiet thank you and returned to his rooms.

When he returned, the maid was sitting in the front room embroidering a handkerchief. She smiled brightly at Arthur. "I've finished unpacking your things, dear. You play the violin?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, that's wonderful! Would you mind playing for me, perhaps? I would love to hear you."

Arthur shuffled his feet and shook his head.

"Still tired, are we? I understand. Well, would you like me to show you around the palace?"

Again, Arthur shook his head.

The maid sighed and patted the cushion of the sofa next to her. "What if you come sit with me for a while? We'll keep each other company until you feel up to something. How does that sound, Arthur?"

Arthur sat gingerly next to the maid , hands beneath the back of his thighs and knees together. The maid smiled at him and returned to her work, humming a light tune that was far more pleasant than the tone deaf droning Alfred had serenaded the breakfast table with. Arthur watched as she pulled the needle and thread back and forth through the handkerchief, the beginnings of a bluebird forming in the stitches.

"What are you making?"

The maid looked over in surprise at Arthur, then turned the embroidery hoop towards him. "Oh. It's going to be a present for my daughter. Her birthday is next week."

"How old is she?"

"She's about your age, actually. Her name is Katharine."

Arthur was quiet for a moment as the maid returned to her stitching.

"Ma'am?"

"Yes, dear?"

"If I may ask... what's your name?"

"My name is Anne, Arthur. I would like it very much if you called me that. I think we could be great friends."

"You've been so kind to me, Anne. Thank you. And the handkerchief is pretty. I know your daughter will love it."

Arthur felt his cheeks get hot and he ducked his head down. He liked Anne and wanted very much for her to like him for more reasons than that he would one day be Queen. So far, she was the only friendly soul he'd met beside Alfred, and Arthur wasn't quite ready to face him.

Anne looked at him with sparkling eyes and patted him on the arm. "You are a sweet boy. Tell me, Arthur, would you like to learn to do this?" She gestured to the embroidery hoop.

Admiring the way the bluebird seemed to be alive on the muslin, Arthur chewed his lip for a moment before nodding. Anne wrapped an arm around his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze as she began explaining the process to Arthur.

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><p>The next two days, Arthur felt too tired to leave his rooms. Anne fussed endlessly over him, concerned at how pale he had become and the dark circles growing beneath his eyes. She ordered him to rest in bed, bringing him his meals and watching him like a hawk to make sure he finished most of his food. Arthur practised his embroidery while he rested, and soon he was making small designs in the fabric. It was something soothing and mind-numbing to do while he waited for some miracle to suddenly make him feel better.<p>

"Arthur? I have something for you!" Anne entered his bedroom and flourished a sheet of paper.

"What is it?" Arthur was propped up against the headboard, just now getting the hang of making small ivy chains on his handkerchief.

"Read it and see!"

It was a small card with a messy sunflower painted on the front. Arthur opened it, his eyes widening as he read the message and the large, loopy signature at the bottom.

"His Highness left this for me?"

"Yes! Isn't that sweet? He's worried about you Arthur. We all are. We just want you to be happy."

"I'm sorry."

Anne didn't say anything, but kissed the top of his head and left him to his own devices. Arthur stared at the card for a long while before setting everything aside and slumping down into the mattress.

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><p>On the third day since his arrival, it was obvious that Anne was desperate for some sign of improvement in Arthur. She came bearing two old looking books and set them in front of Arthur who was sulking on the bench by the bay window.<p>

"I thought you might be interested in these, Arthur. They're collections of faerie tales. I know you have the Gift, so I thought perhaps..."

Arthur perked up and looked at the books, admiring the flowing illustrations on the covers. "Thank you, Anne!"

"Now, now, wait a minute. I hate to be a worrywart, but I think it would be good for you to get some fresh air. I was thinking of cutting some flowers in the garden. Would you like to come with me? You can bring the books and read while I work and I'll be right with you the whole time. Does that sound like something we can try, Arthur?"

As much as he didn't want to leave his room, Arthur was much more curious about the contents of the books and in short order found himself seated beneath a sweet smelling tree while Anne collected the best blooms in her basket.

He was just about to turn the page and begin the second story in the book when he heard someone calling his name. Arthur was shocked when he looked up and saw Alfred running towards him grinning like a fool.

"Arthur! Do you feel better?" I wanted to see you, but the maid said you were sick and Yao told me to leave you alone. And then I made you a card because I wanted you to stop being sad. Did you get the card? Do you like sunflowers? I didn't know, but I thought you might!"

Dumbstruck by the onslaught of questions, Arthur's mouth hung open for a moment, torn between fleeing and remembering that this was the future King and he needed to bow. He was about to stand up when Alfred decided to sit down next to him and peer into his lap, the book now abandoned and the pages fluttering slightly in the breeze.

"What are you reading?"

"Your Highness! There you are!" Yao came puffing up to he pair beneath the tree, hair and clothing slightly out of place.

"Sorry, Yao, but look! Arthur's better!"

"I am glad to see that, your Highness, but perhaps we should leave him be and continue on to the stables as planned."

"But I want to stay with Arthur! Can't I?"

Arthur was completely overwhelmed and could only shoot glances between Yao, Alfred, and Anne who was smiling openly as Alfred settled himself defiantly next to Arthur.

Yao gestured to Arthur as if to say that the decision was his and Alfred turned to him expectantly.

"I... I don't mind if... I don't mind if his Highness wants to stay."

Anne chimed into the conversation, wiping her hands on her apron. "I'll watch them, Jack, as I am sure you have important things to attend to with Deck Council meeting only a few months away."

Yao nodded and told Anne what time to have the boys back in the palace before he bowed and took his leave.

"So what are you reading, Arthur?" Alfred leaned back against the bark of the tree, totally comfortable even though just inches from him, Arthur's heart was racing.

"It's a book of faerie tales, your Highness."

Alfred wrinkled his nose at Arthur. "Don't call me that. Everyone calls me that. Just call me Alfred, okay?"

Arthur swallowed thickly. "Yes, alright, Alfred. Do you... do you like faerie tales?"

"I do! I ask my maid to read them to me all the time!"

Smiling at Alfred's endless enthusiasm, Arthur set the book across both of their laps. He couldn't help but to be kind to Alfred; the poor boy had no idea why Arthur was here, after all, so it wouldn't be fair to treat him badly because of what was going to happen in the future.

"Should we... would you like to read them together?"

"Yes! That sounds fun! Can I read first? We'll take turns!"

Arthur laughed and nodded, biting his lip as Alfred started to read the story out loud. It was so different from what Arthur was used to; having someone so excited to be around him, having someone who cared so much about him right away and without a second thought. Maybe Alfred would grow out of his good-natured naïveté, but despite Arthur's dismay at their impending marriage, he found himself warming up to the idea of at least having Alfred as a friend.

Glancing up to see Anne beaming down at the cozy pair he and Alfred were making beneath the tree, Arthur realized that if he was only willing to look, he might be able to find many a friend in his new home. And if he was ever going to survive the ins and outs of monarchy, he was going to need all the friends he could get.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading and reviewing! <strong>


	4. Chapter 4

After much pleading on Alfred's part, Yao was kind enough to let both boys have the remainder of the week off from lessons to get acquainted with one another. Over the few days in which Arthur was all but forced to spend more time with the future King, he had come to acknowledge that he actually didn't mind being with Alfred. He was sweet in a simple- perhaps even foolish- way that made Arthur feel simultaneously protective of and superior to him, and really the only fault Arthur could find with him was that he was just so cursedly energetic all the time. Having never been much of one for rough-housing or athletics, Arthur found it perplexing that the moment Yao took the boys out into the gardens for a walk or to explore out of doors, Alfred would be up the first tree he could find or trying to climb over the stone walls that separated the castle from the orchards and pastures behind it. Worst of all was when Alfred would come charging at him and give him a quick prod with his fingers before running off again, yelling, "You're it!"

Arthur had been totally caught of guard the first time Alfred had done this, not understanding what the phrase actually meant or why he had been assaulted so suddenly. He looked to Yao, who was trailing a respectful, yet watchful, distance behind as usual, but the Jack provided no explanation other than to gesture that Arthur was supposed follow Alfred.

"Arthur! You're it!"

"And what does being "it" mean, your Highness?"

Alfred puffed out his already chubby cheeks dramatically. "Don't call me that! Now you have to be double it! Haven't you ever played tag before?"

Arthur shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

"Don't you have any brothers or sisters?"

"I have a much older brother, your High- Alfred, and much younger ones."

"So you didn't have anyone to play with?"

Of course Arthur had playmates. No one else could see them, but he had them. He wasn't sure how to tell Alfred that though, so he simply shook his head again, cringing at how pathetic it seemed.

Alfred didn't seem put out, though, smiling almost compassionately. "Well, I'll teach you then! Tag is where somebody is it, and they chase everyone else until they can catch someone. Then that person is it. Okay?"

"So, if I'm it, I'm supposed to try to catch you and then you'll be it and have to catch me?"

"Uh-huh! I used to play with Matthew all the time, but he's busy a lot now."

"Matthew?"

"He's my brother! Well, sort of..."

Here Yao cleared his throat loudly, forcing a laugh to cut Alfred off. "Your Highness, perhaps you should get back to your game. We will have to go in soon." Yao shot Arthur a look that clearly said that the matter of Matthew was to be discussed no further at the present time, and though Arthur's curiosity was more than sufficiently piqued, he said nothing else.

"Fffffine... Arthur! You're it." And with that Alfred dashed away through the garden, whooping and calling back to tease Arthur.

Half an hour and several bruises later, Arthur was bent over with his hands on his knees, panting as if he were about to have a heart attack. Alfred, seemingly still brimming with energy, was trying to climb one of the shorter trees in the garden. Carrying the jackets both boys had abandoned in their play, Yao, patted Arthur on the back as he walked by.

"Does he ever stop?" Arthur wheezed.

"No. Never. It can be quite a challenge to channel his energy, but I've found it best to let him have his fun this way. It does him good, as long as he is monitored." Arthur was a bit surprised at how lenient Yao was with Alfred's horseplay, given the Jack's regal and controlled facade; he had hardly imagined that a young prince would be allowed to run so wild.

Watching as Alfred made it onto one of the tree's low branches, Arthur dusted off his now filthy hands. Alfred was equally smudged, with one notable dirt streak running across his chin.

"Your Highness! Please be careful!"

Alfred had managed to hang himself upside down from the branch, holding on only with the crook of his knees and struggling to keep his shirt from falling into his face. "Look, Arthur! I'm a bat!"

Arthur laughed. "That's very funny, Alfred, but maybe you should get down before the branch breaks."

Swinging back up effortlessly, Alfred dropped from the branch, stumbling a little and hitting his knee. He looked at it briefly, a scrape of skin going red and raw, but merely brushed it off with a giggle and quiet "ow" before continuing on down the garden path.

"Does nothing slow him down?" Arthur asked, choosing to walk next to the Jack rather than pursue Alfred at his manic pace.

Yao laughed and shook his head amusedly. "Nothing that I can think of. He's strong for a child his age; he's never been ill, never shown much reaction to little pains and bumps. His Highness is rather... hearty. That is a blessing, considering the illnesses that caused his parents to pass on." Yao stopped walking and turned to look down at Arthur. "And how are you feeling, Arthur? I know we did not meet under the best circumstances, nor did we get off on the best foot, but it seems that you do not mind his Highness' company."

Arthur felt his cheeks get hot, and he looked down at his scuffed shoes. "I am feeling better, Jack, and I don't mind... that is... his Highness is..."

"Yao! I'm hungry!" Alfred had returned from his adventures, one of his boots now coming untied.

Checking his pocket watch, Yao nodded. "It is almost supper time, your Highness. But baths first." He glanced at Arthur with a teasing smile. "For the both of you, I think."

"Okay. But I'm too tired to walk back. Arthur! Carry me!"

"What?" Arthur barely had time to brace himself before Alfred had jumped on his back and latched his arms around his shoulders and his legs around his middle. Teetering for a moment, Arthur managed to regain his balance and adjust Alfred's weight.

"Do you really expect me to carry you?"

"Please? I'll give you all my carrots at supper!"

"Your Highness, you know I don't mind your play, but please don't hurt Arthur."

Arthur shifted Alfred's weight again until it was more comfortable. "Ah, no it's alright, Jack. This is fine. I don't... I don't mind."

There was something oddly comforting about the walk back. Arthur had rarely, if ever, had a day of play such as this one, and the feeling of being allowed to run wild was potentially addictive. Surely he would never be as free-spirited as Alfred, but Arthur was starting to realize just how little he acted like other children his age. He had always kept to himself, preferring safe, quiet activities that would never leave him sweaty and tired. Now, the growing numbness in his legs and arms, the happy, breathless sensation in his chest, and the growing feeling of camaraderie between him and Alfred made him wonder what other things he had missed out on.

Even Anne could tell that a change was beginning to come over Arthur. She remarked on his renewed spirits as she drew his bath, pinching his cheeks gently and laughing as they coloured. Arthur couldn't help laughing, too. Although the future still loomed in the back of his mind, he was finding comfort in the atmosphere of the present. There were a million things about his new life that Arthur didn't yet understand, but if the past few days of recklessness had taught him anything, it was that at 12 years of age he didn't need to worry so much about understanding.

And if his time spent with Alfred had taught him anything, it was that come what may, he would hardly be alone.

* * *

><p>Arthur was given an extensive tour of the palace and the surrounding grounds. He came to learn that the reason his room overlooked the garden instead of being level with it was because the first level of the palace was actually underground when viewed from the front, but the uneven terrain made it visible from the gardens. The first level housed the kitchen and storage areas, as well as servants' quarters.<p>

The entire palace was L- shaped with a stone wall and the arches through which Arthur had passed on the first day obscuring it from the view of the capital city. The centre point of the L was the palace steps, which continued into the grand foyer and the ornate blue-carpeted great staircase that branched off in two directions to the next level. At one end of the palace were the throne room, ballroom, music room, various parlours, the giant formal dining room, and the smaller, more intimate one where Arthur was used to going for meals. The other end housed all of the bedrooms and living quarters for royalty, and now, Arthur. Upstairs, there were a few guest rooms as well as an enormous library. Arthur looked forward to exploring it more fully when he was given time for independent study.

Besides the gardens that ran the length of the palace and extended to the stone wall, the stables and paddocks were situated near one end of the palace with a separate set of archways leading into the front courtyard and the city. Despite Alfred's pleas, they did not explore the stables much beyond Yao indicating their existence. A dirt road led beyond the stables to a break in the stone wall and the livestock pastures and orchards beyond. Arthur could see a barn and a small herd of cattle in the distance, and further up on the hills he could make out the white dusting of a flock of sheep. Yao led them through the orchard, pointing out the divisions where a new section of fruit bearing trees began.

The late fall weather meant that there were few leaves on the trees, but Alfred found a few stray pomegranates that had fallen in ripeness and been neglected. He carried his prize back to the castle excitedly that afternoon, and after supper both boys were treated to a bowl of the sweet, ruby seeds. Arthur had never had them before and savoured each delicious, juicy gem, while Alfred ended up having scarlet-stained lips by the time he was done. Even Yao found it amusing, though Arthur nearly died of humiliation when Alfred spent the better part of the half hour before bedtime trying to corner him and give him a kiss on the cheek to transfer the sticky colouring.

Arthur was afraid he would get lost in his new home; although the layout was simple enough, the winding halls between rooms were confusing and they all looked the same. He was glad that, for the time being, he was rarely left out of sight of one of the servants or Alfred and the Jack.

There was one detail of palace life that was beginning to irk Arthur, however. In all their strolls through gardens and orchard, Arthur had yet to see or sense a magical being with his Gift. He had thought he had seen a faerie, but he had been unable to turn fast enough to see as the bluish light flashed in his peripheral vision to be sure. He wondered if the magical folk were just hiding, used to years of neglect from the palace inhabitants, or if worse, and there simply were none living in the area. The idea that he would never be able to use his Gift again saddened Arthur deeply, but he didn't feel like he could express that grief. Yao knew of Arthur's abilities, but there was nothing he could do about the situation, and even if Alfred would be the more sympathetic choice of confidants, Arthur was sure he would laugh at him.

Despite their tentative friendship, this was one of many things Arthur was not willing to share quite yet.

* * *

><p>Alfred wished that the week would never end, but soon enough he was back indoors for most of the day, reading and solving puzzles and listening to Yao lecture about the history of the Kingdom. It wasn't that he found his lessons boring, especially not now that Arthur had them as well, and Alfred understood that there was a time for work and a time for play and he would have to work hard to be smart enough to be King; he simply didn't like being cooped up inside all day.<p>

Glancing over at Arthur, who was deeply invested in reading and taking notes on a few pages out of a poetry book Yao had given him, Alfred put down his pencil. He liked Arthur. Arthur was older, and therefore automatically much more interesting and wiser, and he came from a different part of the Kingdom, which made him exotic and exciting. Arthur talked oddly compared to the people Alfred knew at court; there was a strange lilt to his speech that Alfred found fun to try to imitate, though this usually earned him a glare from both Arthur and Yao.

Arthur was smart, too. He was only a little more advanced than Alfred in mathematics, but he knew much more about history and he could understand and discuss the legends and poems Yao assigned to him. Alfred was jealous that Arthur's handwriting was so perfect, too; more than once, Yao had made Alfred re-write notes or a composition because his penmanship was terrible. Noticing that Arthur wrote with his left hand instead of his right, Alfred tried to do the same in the hopes that that was what made his writing so nice, but all he succeeded in doing was producing chicken-scratch and getting ink smears on his parchment and hand.

It didn't bother Alfred that Arthur couldn't run as fast or climb trees as well; it didn't bother him that Arthur was odd sometimes and stumbled over his words and got red in the face. Alfred liked him just the way he was, and wanted to play with him as much as possible so that maybe Arthur would like him, too.

His playtime was greatly diminished, however as first signs of winter began to show themselves in frosted grass and rooftops and breath. He knew this month would be filled with extra lessons when all the other Jacks of the Deck Council began to visit for their special tutoring sessions.

Alfred enjoyed the time spent with the Jack of Diamonds the most because he only ever stayed for one week and his lessons were fun. The Jack, or Mr. Vash as Alfred had taken to calling him, was something of a combat and weapons expert, and while he had told Yao that he didn't think Alfred was ready to learn fencing or archery quite yet, Mr. Vash did teach him how to tumble and show him good exercises to do.

When Mr. Vash arrived, he set up his soft mats in the ballroom and made Arthur and Alfred stretch for a long time. Arthur seemed very confused by the exercises, and Alfred laughed a few times when Arthur would struggle to keep his balance or perform a stretch. Mr. Vash was very strict and shushed Alfred each time, giving stern, but gentle encouragement and guidance to Arthur until he could manage each task on his own. The boys were instructed to practice their stretches every morning before breakfast, and then made to run a few laps around the ballroom.

After a short break, Mr. Vash made the boys practice tumbling. Alfred could turn multiple somersaults without issue, but Arthur struggled to do even one.

"It's easy, Arthur! All you have to do is tuck your head down and roll over." Alfred demonstrated with a flourish, but Arthur's expression remained skeptical.

"Are you frightened, Arthur?" Vash asked softly going to crouch near the boy frozen at the edge of the mat. Arthur shook his head in affirmation. "It's going to seem scary at first, but you have to trust that your body will do this. All you need is a little momentum and some trust. Can we try that?"

"I'll try."

Alfred watched as Arthur teetered forward mostly onto the top of his head and rolled over ungracefully onto his side. It was funny, but Alfred cheered and congratulated him for succeeding.

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking, why are we learning to tumble?" Arthur sat on the mat, adjusting his clothing.

Vash sat down next to him. "It builds strength and flexibility in your body. Those are things you will need when I begin to teach you how to use a sword and a bow, and learning to focus mentally will help you when I teach you to shoot a gun. Does that make sense?"

Both boys nodded, though Alfred noticed that Arthur looked a bit glum. After they had been dismissed for the afternoon, Alfred asked what had made him so sad.

"I don't know if I want to learn to fight. I don't think I need to learn how to hurt people," Arthur replied, chewing on his bottom lip.

"It's like a sport though, isn't it? Fencing and archery and shooting targets are sports now, Arthur. I don't think Mr. Vash wants us to hurt people, so it's okay."

"It feels strange to me. If we are supposed to be royalty one day, shouldn't we focus on being peaceful?"

Alfred cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Are you going to be a King, too?"

Arthur's face turned cherry red and he slapped a hand over his mouth. "Ah! No! I... what I meant was that it doesn't seem like a very... _courtly _thing to do... and since we both live in court. I mean, you'll be King one day, so you'll be royalty, I just mean that since I live here... I misspoke."

For the rest of the day, Arthur didn't talk much to Alfred, and the young royal became concerned when Arthur resumed merely picking at his food and looking sullen. He thought maybe he was getting sick again, but Arthur didn't ask to be excused. He just moped through meals and sat quietly next to the fireplace in the study after supper, not even saying goodnight when Yao sent the boys to bed.

* * *

><p>Arthur's mood didn't improve much in the next week when the Jack of Hearts arrived. Alfred hoped that maybe the crafts and artwork the Jack would teach them about would make Arthur feel better. The Jack of Hearts was an accomplished painter and sculptor, seeing as his Kingdom was the centre for culture and art. Alfred thought it was boring when the absentminded Jack (whose full name he couldn't pronounce correctly, so he just called him Feli) would go off on a tangent about his favourite paints or brushes or even food, but he liked the assignments he gave out.<p>

After lecturing to them and showing them some famous still-life artwork, Feli had brought out an assortment of new art supplies including all sorts of paints, ink, charcoal and pastels. He placed an apple and bowl on the table in front of the boys with a smile.

"All I want you to do is draw what you see! You can use any colours you like, anyway you like! Just try it out and see what you come up with!" Whistling cheerfully, Feli sat down to draw as well, using outlandish colours and patterns.

Alfred wasn't very good at drawing, but he liked playing with the water colour paints and soon he had a red blob that looked vaguely like an apple and brown curve that resembled a bowl. He leaned over to see how Arthur was doing, just as Feli came over to check his work.

"This is very nice, your Highness! I think that with a little bit more practice and patience, you could be a wonderful artist! Now, let's see how Arthur is getting along... oh!"

Equally stunned, Alfred looked on as Arthur sheepishly handed over his paper. He had used an ink pen to create angry, sketchy lines all over the paper, but there was no denying that he had created a stunning drawing, detailed down to the grain of the wooden table and the texture of the apple and bowl.

"It's so pretty, Arthur!" Alfred leaned on his elbows to get a better look at the drawing.

"Yes, Arthur, this is magnificent! Do you like to draw often?" Feli cooed over the picture, eyes crinkling with his huge grin.

"Oh, no, not really. I mean sometimes a draw little things, but they aren't very good. It's not all that special, really."

"Nonsense, you draw beautifully! I am so excited to be teaching such talented students! Now, why don't we clean up and I think we are done for the day." Feli wandered off to rinse out brushes and pack things away, placing the drawing back in front of Arthur.

Arthur sighed heavily, and made to fold up the drawing, but Alfred reached out a hand to stop him.

"What are you going to do with it?"

"Probably just throw it out. It's rubbish anyway."

Alfred gawked in disbelief. "It's so pretty, though! If you don't want to keep it, can I have it?"

Shooting him an incredulous look, Arthur pushed the drawing over to Alfred. "If you want it. I don't understand why though; it's just a silly drawing."

Alfred clutched the paper tenderly to his chest. "It's not silly! You made it and worked hard on it and that makes it special, and even if you think it's rubbish, I love it and I'm going to keep it!"

He didn't understand why Arthur was laughing at him, but he was glad that he had saved the drawing.

"Wait! Arthur! You have to sign your name on it. All the really famous artists do that so you know it's theirs. Sign it!"

"I'm not a famous artist, Alfred."

"You might be, one day. You can be anything you want!"

A strange look came over Arthur's face, and his eyes drifted away from Alfred's face as if he were trying hard not to think of something unpleasant.

"What's wrong?"

Arthur shook his head, and took the drawing back, scribbling something in the corner before placing the drawing down gingerly. He gathered up some of the art supplies to help Feli pack.

"Thank you, Alfred, but I can't be anything I want. Even people like me have limitations."

Confused by what he meant Alfred watched Arthur go before turning to look at the signature on his drawing.

_For Alfred,who is very sweet_

_Arthur Kirkland_

Alfred made sure to stow the drawing away some place secret and safe in his room; he was going to keep it forever.

* * *

><p>Of all the Jacks, Alfred least liked the Jack of Clubs. Maybe it was because he was even stricter than Mr. Vash and made Alfred call him "sir" or maybe it was because he taught music... and Alfred was an abysmal music student.<p>

And the Jack of Clubs was always dressed so stuffily. It made Alfred feel itchy just to look at him. He wore funny looking glasses that perched on the tip of his nose, and Alfred hoped he would never have to wear something so ridiculous looking.

Alfred sat at the piano in the music room and plunked out the piece he had been practising in the weeks leading up to the Jack's visit. He had tried his hardest to learn it, but it never seemed to get any easier. Even the musical drills the Jack had made him do to warm up his hands were difficult despite Yao's consistently setting aside a time for Alfred to practise the piano every day.

Finishing the piece and then looking down into his lap sheepishly, Alfred waited for the Jack to reprimand him.

"Well, your Highness, you are not as far along as I had hoped you would be, but I can hear some improvement since last time, however small. I understand that you practise every day? I can admire that. Keep on working, and I'm sure you will have a breakthrough soon." The Jack nodded in dismissal, signalling for Arthur, who had been waiting his turn on the sofa, to come over. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief that that was all the Jack had to say as he traded places with Arthur.

"Arthur, is it not? It is a great pleasure to meet you, and an honour as well, since I know what has brought you to the House of Spades." The Jack inclined his head, and Alfred wondered what he meant and why it was making Arthur's face go red.

"It is an honour to meet you, sir." Arthur replied, voice cracking.

"The Jack of Spades has told me you play violin. Correct?"

"Yes, sir."

The Jack adjusted his glasses and retrieved his own violin from its case. "Then let's see how far along you are. We will do some exercises and then I shall ask you to play something for me."

Alfred watched and listened with fascination as the Jack tested Arthur's abilities. The sounds coming from the two violins were so pure and sweet that Alfred felt triply embarrassed by his own lack of skill.

"Who taught you to play, Arthur?" the Jack enquired as he searched through his case of sheet music.

"My mother, sir."

"She has done an excellent job teaching you the fundamentals. I think with my help you may become a fine violinist. Your technique is a bit lacking, but you have a good ear and play with heart. That is something that cannot be taught."

"Thank you, sir. I am eager to improve."

The Jack set some music on a stand before Arthur. "Look over this briefly and then try to play it. Don't worry about making mistakes, I just want to see how well you read."

Arthur's brow furrowed as he looked it over, biting his lip in concentration. He began to play, tentative but still determined. The Jack seemed pleasantly surprised by his ability and applauded gently when Arthur finished. Alfred clapped as well, smiling when Arthur looked over at him and blushed, scratching the back of his neck in happy embarrassment.

"I am quite, impressed Arthur. I will leave some pieces for you to look over and begin working on, and when I next return to instruct you, we can go over any questions or problems you have."

Unable to stay quiet any longer Alfred bounced slightly in his seat and chirped, "You sound really good, Arthur! I wish I could play like you!"

Arthur shuffled his feet shyly at the praise, but the Jack was quick to round on Alfred. "Frankly, your Highness, his ability is the product of hard, mindful work. Your practising is wonderful, but perhaps you could learn a thing or two about focus from Arthur. Who knows? Perhaps if you work hard enough to attain his level of musicianship, I can find a duet piece for you to play."

Alfred's eyes widened. "Do you mean that? We could play together?"

The Jack smirked to himself and gathered up his music cases. "If you show improvement, like I said."

"Then I'm going to work extra, extra hard to get better. I promise!" Alfred nodded his head once as if to say the matter was settled. The Jack and Arthur shared a knowing look, and then Arthur smiled at Alfred.

"I look forward to it."

* * *

><p>"Do you feel alright, Arthur?"<p>

They were out on their afternoon walk, but things were more tame than usual thanks to soggy ground caused by the past few days of rain. Instead of running about as usual, both boys were content to stroll along in the crisp, fresh air, bundled into thick coats, boots and gloves.

"I feel fine. I'm just exhausted from all the extra lessons." Arthur rubbed his fingertips into his cheeks, trying to warm them up, and Alfred mimicked him.

"Me too. The other Jacks have hard lessons."

"How often do they come?"

"Hmmm... every other month or so. They have to travel a long way so they don't come often. I'm glad or else we would have extra lessons all the time."

Arthur nodded. "I missed having time to do this... to just walk about outside."

"I missed it, too. I like being with you like this instead of in lessons all day."

Arthur stopped walking and turned toward Alfred, chewing on his bottom lip and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Alfred? Do you like that I'm here? I mean, I know it must seem strange that I live here now, but did you ever stop to wonder why?"

Contemplating for moment, Alfred rocked back and forth on his heels. "I thought it was to be my friend, like you said the first day we met. So, of course I like you! You couldn't be my friend if I didn't like you." Alfred continued along the garden path for a moment before stopping and turning around again.

"Wait. We are friends, right? You like me too, don't you Arthur?"

Arthur looked down at his feet and sniffed. Alfred thought that maybe he was going to cry, but then Arthur was smiling at him, and even though it looked like there were tears in his eyes, he didn't think it was possible to be sad and smile at the same time.

"I... I like you, too."

"Good." Alfred reached out a mitten-clad hand to Arthur, and when the latter didn't take it right away, he grabbed his hand and dragged him along the path once more. Arthur wiggled his fingers at first, but soon he stopped fighting and just let Alfred hold his hand for the rest of their walk.

Alfred couldn't have been happier.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I apologize for this update being later than my usual schedule. I had finals and an audition, but now I'm off of school for a month and will be working hard to finish this before or shortly after the New Year. Thank you for reading and reviewing! **


	5. Chapter 5

The remainder of the winter was spent alternating between studying and relaxing in front of the roaring fires indoors, and bundling up to play in the glittery white snow that seemed to materialize out of nowhere overnight. Arthur had seen snow before, of course, but he had rarely been allowed out in it; his mother, concerned that he would catch ill because of his delicate appearance and small stature, had forbidden him to go out of doors in the cold, never mind that his older brother played however he pleased. Now that no one was telling him he couldn't, he wasn't quite sure if he liked playing in it at all, but his experience may have been tainted by Alfred's penchant for starting snowball fights on their daily walks. As long as they were just building forts or snowpeople out of the stuff it was alright, but as soon as even a flake managed to wiggle its way past the beautiful green scarf Anne had knitted for him, Arthur was a shivering, miserable wreck. Alfred, on the other hand, seemed immune to the cold, often returning to the palace smiling, ruddy-cheeked and completely soaked from rolling around in the snow trying to make angels.

But then the snow subsided and early spring brought nothing but torrential rain and Alfred took to moping. Arthur tried not to laugh at the way he would sit at the windows, whining like a lost puppy as hour upon hour of the day was filled with the noise of gallons of wet slopping down the glass. Eventually, Alfred would get tired of trying to whine the rain away, and instead demand that Arthur entertain him. Arthur would read faerie-tales aloud while Alfred drew pictures to go along with the story, or else they would play with the set of painted wooden soldiers that Alfred had in his room.

Then, one day when the rains had gone and the earth was beginning to turn a lush green, Yao sat both of the boys down and handed Arthur a packet of papers.

"Your Highness, Arthur, I must depart for the Kingdom of Clubs in a few days' time. King Ivan has been kind enough to host this year's Deck Council, despite the fact that it is technically our turn to host. I will be gone a little more than a month, but I expect you to follow these lesson plans in my absence."

Even as Arthur was opening his mouth to question the long absence, Alfred was pouting and asking, "If it's our turn, why does King Ivan get to do it? I want to see all the Kings and Queens; it isn't fair!"

Yao sighed and smiled patiently. "I understand your eagerness, but trust me when I say that you will meet and work with all of the Deck Council in due time. The other monarchs felt it unfair that we be burdened with the expense of hosting when you are not yet of age. They have agreed to wait until you are at least a bit older and can attend and understand the processes of negotiation better."

Before Alfred could respond, Arthur cut in. "Why will you be gone so long?"

"Partially in consideration of travel time. The Kingdom of Clubs is the furthest from this city, and the land is incredibly mountainous and the climate cold year-round. Travel to their capital is not easy. Then, the meeting itself is lengthy since the rulers of each Kingdom only meet once a year to discuss any major changes in our realm and share the advances and concerns of each individual House. Of course, there is also much exhibition and flagrant ceremony, which takes further time than I, personally, would care for."

"And do we really have to keep doing lessons while you're gone?" Alfred groaned, eyeing the papers in front of Arthur.

Clucking his tongue, Yao stood and made to leave the room. "Yes, and I will be checking with your attendants to see that you do. Now, if you will excuse me, I must finish preparing for the journey. Good day, your Highness; Arthur."

Arthur skimmed the lesson outlines briefly, then looked to Alfred, shrugging. "This really isn't so bad."

Alfred pulled a face. "Arthur, I'll give you my dessert for a whole week if you pretend to lose those!"

"I highly doubt that. You enjoy eating more than you hate lessons," Arthur teased.

Sticking his tongue out, Alfred hopped down from his chair. "Meanie! Now come on! I want to go play!"

* * *

><p>It turned out that the Jack's presence was the only thing keeping the palace running smoothly, or at the very least, keeping Alfred under control. Arthur was impressed by the charm and influence the young royal commanded as he managed to convince his maids and caretakers to let him get away with all sorts of shenanigans, whether it was receiving extra sweets, or being allowed to stay up later or to go exploring past the garden with no one but Arthur as a companion.<p>

Arthur had half expected Anne to try to keep them both on a shorter leash, but she just smiled, patting Arthur's head as he looked up at her with concern, and said, "Adventure is good for boys your age! Now go have fun before the Jack gets back and spoils it all!"

Tripping over the rocky pathway for the tenth time in the last hour, Arthur almost wished they _were_ being more restricted; Alfred had decided that they should hike up to the cattle barn and watch the farmhands milk the cows. The men had paid them no mind other than to incline their heads respectfully and tell the boys where to stand to stay out of harm's way. Alfred had been fascinated by the cows, and one of the farmhands had shown him how to milk, even squirting a little stream of it into Alfred's mouth. Alfred thought this was hysterical, but Arthur just crinkled his nose and shook his head when the farmhand had offered him the same treatment, content to simply stroke the sweet faces of the calves in a nearby pen and let them lick his hands.

Walking back to the palace, Alfred was swinging his arms merrily, occasionally opting to skip for a little while before returning to his stroll.

"I like cows. They're very nice."

"They're dangerous, too, though. And so big."

Turning around to walk backwards in front of Arthur, Alfred said, "Well, I guess so, but the girl cows seem nice. And cows taste good."

Arthur choked on his laughter. "Alfred! That's a terrible thing to say!"

"It's true, though! Like in stew and stuff. Cows taste nice! Stop laughing at me!"

Wiping his eyes, Arthur calmed himself down. "I'm sorry, it's just that most children would be mortified knowing where their meat comes from and here you are happily proclaiming that you like cows because they taste good!"

Alfred turned back around with a huff. "Well, it's the truth!"

As they neared the stone wall near the stables Alfred stopped and shaded his eyes with his hand, squinting to examine something Arthur hadn't seen yet. After a few moments, he gasped and took off at a full sprint, yelling for Arthur to hurry up.

"Alfred! What are you doing?"

"Matthew's out!"

"What?" But Alfred was already out of earshot and Arthur was forced to go running after him to get his answer.

By the time he had made it down to the stables, Alfred was already talking animatedly with the boy Arthur recognized as being the one he had mistaken for a girl on his first day in the palace. Even now Arthur could hardly believe someone so pretty was a boy; the legs were too long and thin, the hair too fair and soft-looking, the eyes too large and expressive. He stared unashamedly at the boy, something in his stomach lurching a little when his gaze shifted beyond Alfred and straight at Arthur.

"Oh. Umm... hello." The boy was smiling, but the voice was so tiny and shy that Arthur could just barely understand him. Leaning forward almost involuntarily, Arthur stumbled closer, nearly knocking Alfred out of the way.

"H-hello. I think I've seen you before?"

The boy nodded, tucking a flyaway strand of his curly blonde hair behind his hair. "Yes. When you first arrived. I mean.. oh!" He bowed awkwardly, seeming to remember that he was supposed to have done so in the first place.

"Aww, Matt, you don't need to do that! Arthur's not royalty, he's just my friend!" Alfred butted his way in between the two tongue-tied boys, putting his hands on his hips in irritation that he was no longer the centre of attention.

"Yes, you really don't have to... Matthew, is it?" Arthur didn't know why he felt so nervous and he struggled to keep his eyes off his shoes.

"Mhmm. And you're Arthur Kirkland."

"Duuuuh! I _just_ said that! Arthur! Matt's my brother!"

Arthur was taken aback for a moment, looking between Alfred's beaming face and Matthew's blushing one, until it finally dawned on him just how very alike they looked. Their hair and eyes were nearly the same colour and they had the same chin, though Matthew's nose was slimmer and more aristocratic looking and his bottom lip was much fuller than Alfred's. The resemblance was uncanny when they both smiled, even if Alfred's was much wider and more

confident than the smaller upturning of the corners of Matthew's mouth.

"B-brothers? You have a brother?"

"Well, I'm only half," Matthew admitted shyly.

"We have different moms," Alfred chirped, as if it were the most obvious and natural thing in the world.

Arthur spluttered, trying to process this new information and tactfully ask the million questions bouncing around inside his skull, but all that came out was a rather inarticulate noise of confusion before he looked to Alfred. "Is that why Yao didn't want you talking about him to me all that time ago?"

Not missing the way Alfred and Matthew looked at each other and Matthew hung his head slightly, Arthur instantly felt guilty for causing discomfort in what was already a confusing and delicate situation.

"I... I guess. I mean, I don't think Yao minds Matthew, I think it's just..."

"The King was in love with my mom and she had me before Alfred was born. The Queen was really mad. That's why the Jack doesn't want anyone to talk about me." Matthew, apparently, had had enough of beating around the bush and practically yelled his response before clapping a hand over his mouth in embarrassment, his eyes welling up in shock at his own honesty. "I'm s-sorry! I shouldn't have said that!"

Arthur was overcome with the urge to hug the boy, not caring that they had just met moments ago, and was just about to make good on the idea when Alfred's maid came trotting down the path from the garden.

"Your Highness! Arthur! There you are. Anne and I have been looking for you everywhere. Come along now; it's almost time for supper!" She flapped her arms in exasperation, rounding up the two boys with little care for Matthew, who was still fighting back tears and had begun hiccuping nervously. After a particularly loud squeak, the maid turned around and eyed him critically.

"Boy, what are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be working? Go on then!"

Matthew winced, his face crumpling before taking on a resigned expression. "Sorry, ma'm! I'm sorry."

"You will be if you keep lazing about! Now go!"

Stomach fluttering and knotting in a mixture of pity and anger, Arthur looked over his shoulder as he was prodded back toward the palace by the maid; Matthew gathered himself with a shuddering breath and wiped his sleeve across his face. He looked up and gave Arthur a sad grin, then headed toward the stables once more.

Alfred wriggled free of he maid's grip on his hand for a moment, turning around to wave and yell, "Goodbye, Matt!", but was promptly tugged back.

Still stewing in his anger over how Matthew had been talked to by the maid, and even more curious as to the boy's history, Arthur swore to himself right then and there that he would see Matthew again. The next time they met, he was going to get some answers and, if everything went as planned, he would have friend. Arthur glanced over at Alfred, who looked glum, but was trying his best to hide it.

Well, another friend, anyway.

* * *

><p>Arthur spent the next few days urging Alfred to get done with his lessons as quickly as possible so that they could sneak out to the stables to see Matthew again. Arthur could get all of his daily assigned work done in two or three hours, but Alfred had problems staying focused and that cost them what Arthur was now considering very valuable free time.<p>

He couldn't stop thinking about Matthew. He couldn't explain it, but he was drawn to the shy stablehand nonetheless. There was something so delicate and odd about him, something that Arthur found relatable and appealing all at once. The more Arthur thought about him, the more fascinating Matthew got, until he could finally wait no longer and all but dragged Alfred out of the palace and down to the stables, hoping for a glimpse of the object of his interest. They waited for a good half of an hour before Arthur spotted him walking between two rows of horse stalls, toting a heavy-looking bucket in each hand.

Rushing over, Arthur scooped up one of the bucket handles, fingers brushing Matthew's. "Here, let me help you."

"Oh, thank... Oh! Arthur! No, it's alright. This is the last one anyway!" There was a momentary, silent tug-of war between them, which Matthew soundly lost, before both boys smiled at each other and laughed.

"Thank you."

"It's my pleasure. They looked heavy. Are you always working by yourself?"

Matthew slid open the lock on one of the horse stalls and nodded with his head to indicate that Arthur was to follow him. The horse inside examined them briefly before deciding they were uninteresting and walking to the far end of the enclosure.

"No. Well, yes. They always send me to do the boring chores, but I'm not the only one working here. The other hands are all older, so they don't pay much attention to me. They don't even talk to me if they can help it."

He paused to pour his bucket of water into a barrel within the enclosure, and Arthur did the same.

"That's terrible, that they treat you like that."

"Oh no, they aren't mean to me or anything like that. I'm just invisible to them unless they need something they don't want to do to be done. But I don't mind. I like the horses, and the work isn't too hard." Matthew locked the enclosure up again and shrugged at Arthur, lifting up his bucket. "Do you... do you want to take these back to the storage room with me?"

"Arthur! Look what I found!"

Arthur had all but forgotten about Alfred, whom he had not only ditched to help Matthew, but had let wander off out of sight. He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that no harm had come to him.

Alfred approached, struggling to carry a large, white cat with an odd grey ruff and enormous fluffy grey tail. The cat looked content to be carried, and he turned his head to lick Alfred's face, sending the young royal into a fit of giggles. Arthur couldn't tell if the animal was all fat or all fur, but either way, it was quite round and soft-looking.

"You have a cat?"

Matthew answered as Alfred adjusted his hold on the purring beast. "They are supposed to hunt rats and mice, but mostly that one just likes to sleep."

"There are others?"

"Only the mean one. He never lets me pet him. He ran into the shed when I tried." Alfred shrugged and went back to making faces at the cat in his arms, who he was now cradling like a baby. The cat didn't even struggle as he was bounced and cooed at, seeming to enjoy the attention and closing his eyes to doze off.

Turning to face Arthur, Matthew cocked his head to the side and smiled. For some reason, the motion made Arthur's heart beat a little faster and he had to swallow a sudden rush of excess saliva in his mouth.

"Do you like cats, Arthur?"

"Wha-? Oh, uh, I've never had one. My father and brother had a few hunting dogs, but I was never allowed to play with them, so I've very little experience with pets, I'm afraid."

"You should come see me more often. I'll show you all the horses!" Matthew beamed confidently for a moment before his expression became bashful and he shook his head rapidly. "I mean, only if you want to. I-I'm sure you're so busy and you don't even know me... I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"No! I... I'd like that. If you showed me around here, that is." Arthur stepped closer to Matthew, wanting to him to understand how sincerely he meant it. "I'd like that."

Matthew's smile returned, but he kept his head down, biting his bottom lip and looking up at Arthur through his eyelashes. "We should... we should put the buckets away now."

"Right. Buckets."

Neither of them moved.

As Arthur continued to look a Matthew, he began to hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, which were becoming uncomfortably hot as his whole face flushed. His weight rocked forward almost onto the balls of his feet, his whole body being drawn in by some invisible force, the source of which he felt certain of were the dark violet eyes staring back at him. He was going to drown, any minute he was going to drown if he didn't take a breath and pull away.

Arthur's hold on the handle of the bucket loosened, and its harsh clatter brought him back to reality. Matthew jumped back, blinking rapidly as he looked from the bucket tipped over on the gravel and Arthur as he tried to splutter out some sort of apology or explanation.

Alfred, still holding his furry prize, gave them a disdainful look.

"You two are strange."

* * *

><p>As often as he could manage it, Arthur persuaded Alfred to direct their daily walks in the direction of the stables. Alfred was apparently none too pleased to have been usurped by his half-brother as Arthur's point of interest, sometimes flat out refusing to go see Matthew at all. Heavy bribing with the promise of stories and secrets and private playtime only worked enough to get Alfred out of the palace, and Arthur began to grow weary of having to deal with the young royal's whining and impatience once they reached their destination.<p>

Today, however, Alfred was better behaved thanks in part to the entertainment provided by the rotund cat, who the trio had found sleeping in the hay barn. As Arthur and Matthew sat on one of the itchy bales, side by side, and chatted, Alfred took to teasing the cat with straws of hay and climbing up and down the stair-stepped configuration.

Matthew, Arthur had discovered, was not as shy as he first came across. It seemed that all the boy needed was some encouragement and a friendly ear and he could talk just as endlessly as Alfred, though at a wonderfully quieter volume. There was much they shared in common; they were the same age, had grown up somewhat sickly and sheltered, had similar interests in literature and music. Matthew was a bit embarrassed that he couldn't read as well as he was supposed to for his age, given his late start in education, and Arthur promised to bring him books from the palace library and tutor him.

They were sitting in silence, Matthew leaning back on the palms of his hands, legs swinging carelessly over the edge of the hay bale, unaware of Arthur's fervent and focused gaze upon him. Arthur wrung his hands in his lap, debating whether or not he could break the idyllic atmosphere and risk upsetting Matthew again, all for the sake of his curiosity. Finally, he could contain himself no longer.

"Matthew?"

"Hmmm?"

"I know you said that your mother and the King... they, well... what I mean is... what I'm asking is... what happened to your mother?"

Matthew's brow furrowed, but he didn't look at Arthur, eyes staying focused on the empty field in front of the hay barn. He chewed his bottom lip hesitantly, a habit that enraptured Arthur even if he knew it meant that Matthew was in discomfort.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No. It's... It's alright. I think I want to tell you. If we're friends, we shouldn't have secrets, right? Well, if we are friends..."

Arthur patted Matthew on the arm soothingly. "Of course we are!"

Matthew smiled and drew his knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around himself to stay balanced. "I'm glad. Well, you see, the King... well, he was in love with my mother, like I said. Then she had me. But he was still married to the Queen, even at first, when he first knew he loved my mother, he was still married. I know it doesn't matter because the King can do whatever he likes and he and the Queen don't get married because they... well, because they..."

"Because they love each other?" Arthur offered bitterly.

Matthew turned to him, a sad smile flitting across his lips as he remembered that of anyone, Arthur knew this fact very well.

"Right. But the Queen loved the King. She was crazy for him. I think maybe she did go crazy, in the end, because she died of a broken heart. Did you know that?" Arthur shook his head. "She did. It was awful. The doctors couldn't help her or anything. Anyway, when the Queen found out that I was born, she got so mad. She wanted to throw my mother out right then and there, but the King and the Jack convinced her to let her stay until I was older at least. I guess she didn't want to punish me, since I was only a baby, I think, and it wasn't my fault that any of that had happened, right?"

"No, of course not!"

Matthew swallowed thickly and tried to continue on nonchalantly, but it was obvious from the strained sound of his voice that he was getting upset. "So, like I said, the Queen waited. But then I guess the King still loved her at least a little bit, because she had a baby-"

"Alfred."

"Yes. And she didn't want my mother around any more. She didn't want her around Alfred. So she banished her. I don't know where she is now. But they let me stay and the Jack arranged it so that I can work here in the stables and I live with the other servants and they take care of me. It... it isn't so bad."

Uncomfortable silence overtook them, Arthur unable to find any words that could possibly make what had happened to Matthew less painful.

"I barely remember what she looks like."

Arthur watched, a heavy sensation crippling him from the inside out, as a few tears made their way down Matthew's pale cheeks.

"Sometimes I think I can remember- what she looks like and sounds like and feels like, but maybe I'm just imagining it or maybe it's just from what other people have told me about her. I don't know what's true anymore. I know I should be grateful that the Queen didn't banish me with her because then that would have been hard for my mother- she would have had to raise me all by herself without any money or a home. So maybe she's somewhere safe now, and she's okay because I didn't hold her back. I just wish..." Matthew trailed off into a little sob, burying his face in his arms.

"You just wish what?"

When the reply finally came, it was in the smallest, saddest voice Arthur had ever heard. "I just wish she'd try to come find me. Why hasn't she even tried?"

Arthur couldn't get his arms around Matthew fast enough. It was awkward, trying to balance on a hay bale while holding a boy curled up into a ball, but they managed somehow. Matthew shook a little and tried to say something else, but Arthur shushed him until he relaxed.

Soon, Matthew was wiggling his way out of Arthur's grasp and wiping his face on his sleeves.

"Thanks," he said sheepishly, still not quite meeting Arthur's gaze.

"Thank you for telling me. And I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean anything, but I am."

Matthew's lips twitched into what might have been a smile, but he looked too exhausted to do so properly, face splotchy and red.

"What's wrong with you?"

The pair looked up above their heads to the top of the hay bale pile where Alfred had apparently been playing, none the wiser to the emotional dialogue that had just taken place.

"Why are your eyes all puffy, Matt?"

"Ummm... I was just..."

Arthur came to his rescue. "The hay makes his eyes itch. He's allergic. Come along, Alfred, we'd better go before it gets any worse."

Alfred grumbled as he climbed down, his cat following gingerly in his wake. The walk back was eerily quiet and Alfred soon grew bored of Matthew and Arthur, preferring to run ahead.

The pair of friends took their time as they approached the main facilities of the stables, both having much to say, but no idea how to say it. It turns out words weren't necessary at all when they drew closer together, hands and arms bumping every now and then. Soon bumping turned into purposeful contact, and Arthur found his heart in his throat when Matthew finally grabbed his hand in his own and held it there for the rest of the way.

* * *

><p>Alfred had somehow convinced his maid to let him stay up late, yet again. Arriving in his pyjamas as Arthur had just gotten settled and propped up in his own bed to read until he fell asleep, Alfred had had no qualms about climbing in beside him and demanding a bedtime story.<p>

Tonight, they were dissolving into a fit of giggles over a collection of fables. Alfred was in stitches over the voices Arthur had given each character, especially when he pitched his voice high to impersonate the foolish rich lady in the story. Arthur was sure that Alfred's maid or Anne would come in any moment from the other room and reprimand them for being so rambunctious, but he could hear their own conversation and laughter bleed through the door every now and then.

As the climax of the fable approached, Alfred had calmed down considerably, and Arthur assumed it was in eager anticipation of the ending. He finished the story and closed the book in his lap, turning to ask Alfred what he'd thought of it, only to find the boy asleep and curled into a ball on top of Arthur's blankets. Arthur reached out a hand and shook his shoulder gently, but Alfred only responded with a whine and rolled over onto his stomach.

Anne and the other maid came into the room, ready to put the boys to bed until they saw Alfred sprawled out.

"Oh my, it seems we've left that one too long", Alfred's maid whispered. "I'll just get him out of your hair, then." She bent to wake Alfred, calling his name a few times and patting him on the back. "Wake up, now, your Highness. You've fallen asleep in the wrong bed!" Still he would not wake up, though a quiet "nooooooo" escaped his sleepy lips.

"Just leave him, then, Sarah. He's doing no harm! You don't mind, do you Arthur?" Anne drew the covers up over Alfred after some delicate manoeuvring.

Arthur eyed the wide gulf in the bed between them. It wasn't as if there wasn't plenty of room and he doubted Alfred would be too pleasant if he was woken and made to walk down the long corridors to his own quarters.

"No. It's alright, I suppose."

Both women smiled at the sight of the two boys curled up in beds and Arthur could have sworn he'd heard Anne say "little angels" or some other such sugary rot as she blew out the lamps in the room.

Arthur was relaxed enough to shut his eyes and drift off for a few hours, no disturbances from the other side of the bed to be had. It wasn't until early morning, when the light was still grey and fuzzy that he woke in discomfort, sticky with sweat despite the chill in the air. He tried to move around and get comfortable, but he found his legs and his middle considerably weighted down.

He lifted the covers up and peered inside. Alfred had apparently shifted in his sleep to laying almost completely across Arthur's stomach, his hands clenched in Arthur's night shirt, but body relaxed and heavy. Arthur wiggled until he was free of the vice-like grip, and Alfred moaned softly, roused by all of the movement. He rubbed his eyed moodily and crawled out of the blankets to grimace at Arthur.

"Why are you in my bed?" he demanded groggily.

"I'm not. You're in my bed. You fell asleep here when I was reading to you and Anne and Sarah couldn't move you."

"Oh." Alfred flopped back down onto his stomach, a comfortable distance away. "I had a strange dream."

"What about?" Arthur rolled onto his side, hands pillowing under his cheek.

"Faeries! I dreamt that we went for a walk and the garden was full of them! All colours and they kept singing and bringing us presents."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes! It was so lovely! I'm sad that it isn't real, though." Alfred yawned again and rubbed his face against the pillow. "Wouldn't it be fun if they were real, Arthur?"

Arthur bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, unsure if he should reveal the truth to Alfred. He so desperately wanted someone to understand his love of the faeries and that it was so much more than just stories- it was an entire world. He knew that sometimes young children could see spirits and other beings until a certain age. Perhaps Alfred could help him find them in the palace and he could return to playing with the faeries like he had at home.

"Alfred, can I tell you something?"

"Is it a secret?"

"Well no, not really. I don't often tell people, but it isn't a secret."

"What is it?"

"They are real."

"What are?"

"The faeries! I can see them. And other sprites and spirits and things, too! They lived in my garden at home and they would talk to me and I could talk back. I didn't think there were any living here, but maybe you can help me find them and I'll show you!"

Alfred lifted his head off the pillow and stared down at Arthur as if he had sprouted another head. Then he broke out with a huge smile and rolled his eyes.

"You're silly Arthur! I know you're just making things up now."

"But I'm not, I promise! They are real and if you help me find them, I can show you!"

Shifting so he was laying with his back to Arthur, Alfred laughed again. "Yeah right! That would be so weird. Faeries aren't real, and even if they were and you could see them, that would make you a freak, Arthur. You aren't fooling me."

The insult washed over Arthur and left him feeling cold and small. A freak. Alfred would think he was a freak. Someone who was supposed to be his friend couldn't even accept his Gift, something that was so important to Arthur and his identity. Arthur was hurt and opened his mouth to respond, but Alfred's shallow, wet breathing indicated that he had already fallen back asleep.

Arthur rolled onto his back, blinking back tears as he stared at the blue canopy overhead. Would Matthew think he was a freak if he told him about the Gift? Arthur didn't think he could bear it if he did, but then he felt silly for even thinking it. Matthew was sweet and gentle; he wasn't brash and obnoxious like Alfred. Matthew would understand.

Closing his eyes to try to will himself back to sleep, Arthur clenched his fists in the blankets, fighting off the creeping feeling of loneliness once again, this time armed with the knowledge that there was someone who wouldn't judge him, but would like him just as he was.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing. Those of you who have given feedback have been such a great help and inspiration, and I'm grateful for every single reader, whether we've talked or not! **


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Yao had returned from the Kingdom of Clubs, Arthur and Matthew were fast friends. This fact seemed to be an endless source of frustration for Alfred, who couldn't understand that Arthur had found a kindred spirit in his half-brother. Both outsiders to the world of royalty, but both inextricably tied to it by choices not their own, there was an unspoken bond in suffering between them that their young minds couldn't properly comprehend nor communicate even if they had tried. Alfred showed his dislike for this new intimacy in his usual, childish way, whining and threatening whenever Arthur spent too much time or gave too much of his attention to Matthew. Arthur would just roll his eyes, convinced now more than ever that he wasn't going to get along with Alfred once they were elevated to their future stations. Every little instance of immaturity added up in Arthur's brain to the long list of reasons why Matthew was a much better friend, and his attitude toward Alfred turned cold and distant. He was a nice child, but that's exactly all he was to Arthur: a child.

And Arthur had grown tired of babysitting. Yao was quite confused to find Arthur striking off on his own, or returning to his quarters as soon as lessons were done instead of playing with Alfred. More than once he asked Arthur if anything was wrong, but the only response he would receive was a casual shrug of the shoulders as Arthur would leave the room. Apparently Yao was so concerned that he had even come to talk with Anne about the changes in Arthur's behaviour, but Anne had given him nothing but a glowing report of how well the boys had gotten along in his absence as Arthur sat in his bedroom embroidering, and very resolutely ignoring the entire conversation.

Even Alfred's pleas did no good. Arthur faked tiredness or sickness to get out of spending time with him, several times just telling the young royal to stop being such a pest and go away. Arthur found some gratifying sense of power in watching Alfred's face fall each time; it was nice to know that he could refuse him and have it affect him so.

Still, Arthur couldn't manage to always get out of the daily walks, now with the Jack accompanying them once again. He found his own way to disengage, though, bringing a book along, skimming the pages as he walked and silently sending the message that he was no longer interested in chasing or roughhousing with Alfred. Alfred found his own outlet for aggression at this refusal, taking it out on bushes and tree trunks with sticks he would find on the ground.

Now he was prodding violently at the bark of an apple tree as Yao took them on an eerily silent stroll through the orchards. Arthur, taking a break from his book, was picking up some of the fallen blossoms, determinedly neglecting his companions.

He had been unable to visit Matthew for several weeks, and he found himself going through a withdrawal of sorts. Unused to the company of boys his own age, Arthur craved that camaraderie once again, and was beginning to resent the Jack not only for inhibiting his access to his new friend, but for the hand he had dealt in sealing both of their fates. It was with a heavy sigh and roll of the eyes that he responded when Yao cleared his throat and tried to strike up a conversation to relieve the tense atmosphere.

"Ah, Arthur? Your birthday is coming up at the end of this month, is it not?"

"Yes." Arthur grunted.

Yao pursed his lips and tried a different tactic. "Is there anything you should want to do to celebrate? Anything you wish for?"

Arthur sent him a hard look. "There are many things I wish for, Jack, but that doesn't mean I'll get them."

"My birthday is in the summer, Arthur. If you care to know." Alfred glanced at him hopefully, then broke the stick in his hands in two, tossing it aside when Arthur just shrugged as if to say it meant very little to him.

"Perhaps we could arrange for your parents to visit? I'm sure you must miss them, after all, and surely they would like to see how you've settled."

"I doubt they'll come. Mother has had the new baby now, I know. And I've written to them. They haven't responded." Arthur shredded the blossoms in his hand and let them fall to the damp earth.

Yao patted him on the shoulder in an attempt to be soothing, but Arthur just stiffened further under his touch. "Well, it might be worth a try, don't you think? Your new sibling will be several months old now. And travel from your home to the palace is not so far that they couldn't make it."

Arthur shrugged and resumed walking. "Invite them if you like, then."

The walk continued on, even more quiet and tense than before. They made it is far as the small lake on the far end of the orchards before Yao suggested they turn back. Alfred gathered up several rocks and flung them into the water angrily, then turned without a word and began the hike back. Arthur stared down at the choppy ripples, water lapping at the toes of his boots. He could see his own reflection in the glass-like water, so he swished it away with his foot.

As the water settled once more, Arthur glanced out over the water. He was just about to turn away and rejoin Yao and Alfred when a flash of white caught his eye. Squinting to try to make out the source, Arthur felt a familiar tingle take over his body. There, sipping gently from the water of the lake was beautiful unicorn. Arthur's heart raced and his face broke out into an unstoppable smile; he had never seen a unicorn before, only read about them and seen pictures in books. He began to run along the edge of the water, determined to make it around to the other side and see the unicorn up close. He'd done it! He'd found a creature with his Gift and now he could prove Alfred wrong!

Lifting it's head gently, white silk mane cascading, the unicorn caught sight of Arthur as he frantically ran. It bolted with a start, vanishing into the woods beyond the lake before Arthur could even get within 100 feet of it.

"No! Wait! Come back!" he cried the last glimpse of radiant white vanished into the dark trees.

Arthur sunk to his knees in a mixture of exhaustion and heartbreak.

"Come back. You're real, I saw you!"

"Arthur, what are you doing?" Alfred hollered.

"Did something happen, Arthur?" Yao was rushing back toward the lake, concern apparent on his face. Woefully, Arthur stood and met him half way.

"Arthur, what happened? Your face is so pale! What did you see?"

Arthur looked from Yao's concerned face to Alfred's questioning one, unable to put the idea of being labelled a "freak" to rest. Yao knew of his Gift, and had even implied that it was one of the reasons Arthur had been chosen to be the future Queen, but as Arthur watched Alfred's expression turn from one of curiosity to fear, he swallowed back the emotions threatening to bubble up.

"Nothing. I saw nothing."

* * *

><p>Yao ended up arranging for a grand birthday party to officially welcome Arthur to palace life. There was to be music and food and entertainment to be provided by the infamous Joker. Arthur knew little about him other than that he was a something of a court jester during times of peace and a ruthless mercenary for hire when conflict arose. He didn't know the specifics, but he had heard whispers of his odd behaviour and lust for battle. Arthur didn't understand how someone so absorbed in war could be content to play the fool now that the lands had been united by the Deck Council, and he was quite looking forward to seeing the Joker for himself.<p>

Arthur was bathed and dressed in an new outfit Anne had arranged to be made for him. The cloth was unlike any of even that of the best of his old clothes; it was soft and supple, the intricate brocade of his waistcoat gleaming. Even the stockings he was made to wear with his knickerbockers were made entirely of silk, as was the large white ribbon tied around his collar. His coat was a rich and heavy velvet, with small gold buttons upon the front fashioned in the shape of tiny spades. He thanked Anne profusely for choosing such beautiful garments, even if they were a symbol of his servitude to the House.

As the preparations for the arrival of the guests continued, Arthur found a moment to sneak out to the stables for the first time in nearly a month. Careful to walk delicately to avoid dirtying himself or his newly polished shoes, he made his way to the main storage barn where he knew Matthew would be at that time of day.

"Arthur! I haven't seen you in so long!" Matthew was hanging up the bridles he had just been cleaning, sleeves rolled up and collar unbuttoned. Arthur laughed as he came forward and pulled a straw of hay out of his hair, which he had pulled back messily to the nape of his neck.

"Well, you know how Yao is," he replied sheepishly. "I have missed you, though."

"And I've missed you. Oh. But where's Alfred?" Matthew craned his neck to look through the door Arthur had left ajar.

"Probably still fighting his maids over getting dressed."

"Oh that's right! Your birthday party is today! I'm sorry I don't have a gift to give you..." Matthew adjusted his suspenders awkwardly and bit his lip.

"Never mind that! I came to see you. That's a good enough gift for me."

Matthew smiled and shook his head as if there couldn't possibly be any truth in that, then took to walking around Arthur admiringly.

"And look at your clothes! How pretty they are! You'll have to tell me everything that happens at the party tonight!"

Arthur dusted off the shoulders of his coat vainly. "Of course I will!"

"Is it true the Joker is coming?" Matthew's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, eyes growing wide.

"Yes! Oh, Matthew I wish you could come and see. It isn't fair that you can't attend!"

"Well, I have to help the other stablehands with all the guests' carriages. I'd be too busy anyway." Matthew shrugged. "But I'll get to see all the fine ladies and gentleman as they arrive! Maybe I'll see the Joker after all."

Arthur found Matthew's eternal optimism contagious; how a boy so put upon by fate could see the good in every situation Arthur didn't know, but he loved the warm, weightless feeling that came with each of Matthew's shy smiles and giggles.

They chatted for a little while longer, updating one another on the million tiny, insignificant happenings that they had missed while not in each other's presence. Matthew told Arthur he should find a way to come see the new foals that had been born that year, and Arthur promised to bring Matthew some new books.

"Do you have to go?" Matthew questioned as the warm beams of sunlight started to disappear from the barn windows.

"Soon, I'm afraid."

"Well, come here, I have something I want to show you!"

Arthur followed as Matthew warily led him down to the entrance of the servants' quarters. It seemed everyone was on the next floor up or in the kitchen preparing, since they couldn't even hear anyone talking in the corridors between rooms. Matthew led him deeper into the maze of hallways until he came to a blunt end and fished in his trouser pockets for the key to a small wooden door. Peeking his head in slowly to be sure no one else was around, Matthew invited Arthur in.

There was a low, round table in the center of the room over a shabby rug. Three beds were pushed against the walls not taken up by the door and there was a narrow chest of drawers in one corner with a lamp on top of it. A spindly coat rack held a few items of clothing and there was a little pile of shoes beneath it. There was only one window in the room, right above the bed that Matthew was now searching under. All in all, it looked like a miserable little room to be sharing with at least two other people, and it hurt Arthur's heart to know that this was where Matthew spent his time while he was waited upon hand and foot in spacious quarters.

Matthew found what he was looking for a set it on the bed, motioning for Arthur to sit beside him. It was a worn box, shaped to look like a treasure chest, but only about a foot wide and tall. Matthew undid the latch and opened it, pulling out a somewhat dingy white stuffed bear.

"This is some stuff that the other servants saved for me from my mom. It's not much, but I thought I would show you."

Pushing inside the box, the bottom flipped up, revealing a narrow hidden compartment underneath. Matthew drew out each of the items inside almost reverently and laid them on the coarse blanket between he and Arthur. He held up a metal bracelet adorned with a few red glass beads.

"This was hers. The other servants told me she used to wear it all the time. They didn't know if it meant anything. And they think this pin was from her mother." He held up a blue cameo pin, the profile of the woman upon it dull and worn.

Next was a small book with thick, rough paper. Matthew flipped it opened and showed Arthur the herbs and flowers meticulously pressed and pasted inside, labeled with tiny, neat handwriting.

"She did this herself, so that's her writing. She was very good with medicines and that type of thing. Everyone would go to her if one of their children was sick... well, until everyone found out about her and the King."

The last item was delicate pink silk ribbon, kept so safe that not even the edges had frayed.

"This still smells like her perfume, here." Arthur sniffed at the ribbon, but could detect no scent. Matthew however, held it up to his own nose and smiled. Touched by the genuinely happy look on Matthew's face, Arthur let his delusion alone and nodded.

"It smells nice."

Matthew blushed and started putting the items back in the box. "Well, anyway, that's what I wanted to show you."

"Thank you, Matthew. I know how... private all that must be."

"Mhmm." Matthew closed the box and held the bear under his chin, giving in a familiar squeeze.

"And what about the bear? Was that hers, too."

"This? Oh no, she made it for me. I remember taking it everywhere with me and sleeping with it. I can't remember what I named him, but I figure this is the only gift I'm ever going to have from her, so I should keep it." Matthew brushed his fingers along the button eyes of the bear, and petted its ears. "You probably think that's silly."

"No, I don't. I think it's nice you can have some memories of her." Arthur placed a hand on Matthew's knee and both boys looked down at it. Matthew patted the hand awkwardly, then stood to put his treasures away, letting Arthur's had slide down to thump on the lumpy mattress.

"I should let you get on to your party. There are some very important people waiting for you.

* * *

><p>Unfortunately, Matthew had been right. Yao had taken great pains to invite all of the prominent families of the Kingdom, and it seemed that the vast majority of them were in attendance. Arthur couldn't help but feeling like he was on display; even if no one was saying it out loud, the way they stared and him and appraised him made it clear that they knew exactly who he would be one day.<p>

Yao had also managed to reach Arthur's parents. Arthur had been rather taken aback when he was whisked away to one of the private parlours to be reunited with them. Stern as always, his father had clapped him strongly on the back and asked about his health, while is mother drew Arthur to her, teary-eyed. She kissed his face all over despite Arthur's numerous protests, then took to daubing the stains of her lip rouge off his blushing skin. One of the family maids had travelled with them and she came forward at his mother's bidding to present him the small sleeping bundle of the new baby.

"Arthur, this is your brother, Peter," his mother cooed, moving the blankets away from the baby's face as Arthur peered down.

There was something fascinating about babies to Arthur. They looked so strange and fragile, even if Peter happened to be nearly eight months old. He sat on one of the sofas in the parlour with his mother for a long while, holding and talking to the baby, totally absorbed in each little flutter of his eyelashes or wiggle of his chubby fingers.

"He looks much like you did as a baby. You were smaller, though. A tiny thing." Arthur's mother smiled at Arthur and stroked his hair, placing a kiss on his forehead.

"Was I really as small as all that?" Arthur asked, happy as Peter latched on to one of his fingers and squeezed.

Arthur's father interrupted from the other side of the room. "Yes, you've always been a runt. But that's changing now, isn't it? You'll be an important man here, Arthur. You've been behaving yourself, have you not?"

Passing the baby to the maid, Arthur stood and nodded. "Yes, sir. I do my studies and work hard at whatever the Jack asks of me."

"And what of his Highness? Do you get along with him?" his mother asked, fussing with Arthur's clothing until he looked just right.

"Well enough, I suppose. He's nice... for a child."

"And do you think there's any chance you might..." Arthur's mother paused and made a face. "Well, never mind that. I'm just glad you get along."

Yao knocked on the door and peaked his head inside. "Ah, Lord and Lady Kirkland? The festivities are about to begin. If I could borrow Arthur for a few moments, and I will have you shown to the ballroom, please?"

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Jack." Arthur's father looked him up and down one last time. "I'll see you later, son. I'm sure we have much catching up to do."

And then they were gone and Arthur was left feeling small and unworthy in his father's eyes once again.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, Yao, I'm coming."

Yao shook his head and lowered his voice, approaching Arthur with great desperation in his eyes. "No it is not that. It is his Highness."

"What's wrong with Alfred?"

"He is having an... episode. He refuses to come out of his room until he be allowed to speak with you in private." Yao wrung his hands and tried to herd Arthur out into the hallway.

Arthur didn't budge. "So what you're saying is: Alfred is having a temper tantrum and you want me to go make it better." He crossed his arms defiantly, enjoying the irritated twitch in Yao's eye as the Jack struggled to maintain composure.

"It it makes you feel more important to think of it that way, then yes, Arthur, he's throwing a royal fit and we have no idea why, but he keeps asking for you. Can you please, just once, not fight me tooth and nail and understand that if he does not make an appearance, it is going to reflect badly on all of us? As future Queen I think you would be a bit more invested in keeping the peace. I don't know what's gone on with you and Alfred in my absence, but for now you need to think of what's good for this House and this Kingdom. Are we clear?"

Swallowing thickly, Arthur looked at the carpet, hands clenched into fists as a tiny coal of shame burned red hot in his belly. Yao was right. Arthur was being intentionally difficult as of late, and it wasn't fair to take it out on a child who didn't even understand why Arthur was there in the first place. "Yes. Take me to him."

Yao smoothed an unruly strand of his sleek black hair, and nodded, once again the picture of courtly perfection.

"Thank you." Heading rapidly down the hallways, Arthur followed behind sheepishly, wishing he had not been so cross with Yao and Alfred in the past weeks.

"Yao", he said as they reached the door to Alfred's chambers. "I am sorry... for being so... contrary sometimes."

Sighing and running a hand over his face, Yao knelt down to Arthur's level and looked him in the eye. "Arthur, I know that all of this has been quite unfair to you, and I know we still haven't figured out quite how to talk to one another. I need to apologize as well. I think I made a mistake in bringing you here."

Arthur's face fell; now it was out in the open that he wasn't good enough for anyone, and he dreaded his parents' reaction if Yao decided to break the agreement and send him home. Yao noticed the change in his demeanour and rapidly tried to correct himself.

"No, no! Don't mistake my meaning. I still believe you are going to be the best Queen for this Kingdom and for Alfred. I believe that for reasons you can't possibly imagine. But I think it was a mistake to thrust this upon you so early. If I had waited- if you had been older- perhaps this would not have been so traumatizing for you. I completely admit that, and I ask for your forgiveness. However, now that fate has struck in this way, I assure you that I am working, and will continue to work my hardest to make this easier and to make you as happy as you can be here. You just have to let me, Arthur. You have to let me help you."

Yao gripped his shoulders tightly and looked into his eyes, his own filled with a tenuous mix of emotions. Arthur could feel he truly meant what he said, and that only made him feel worse for thinking poorly of the Jack. He didn't know if he could ever be happy as Queen, but there was no sense fighting a force he couldn't control.

Arthur nodded, unable to think of anything to say in response to Yao's heartfelt admission.

"Good. Now, let's see what can be done with his Highness, shall we?"

Sarah answered the door in a panic when Yao knocked, her hair in disarray, and her face red as if she had been in some deadly struggle.

"Jack! I don't know what to do! I've tried everything, but now he's locked himself in his room and won't open the door!"

"I think Arthur might be able to reason with him." Yao gave Arthur a little push toward the bedroom door and Arthur looked over his shoulder, unsure of what good he could possibly do if Alfred really was throwing a temper tantrum. He knocked on the door gingerly, jumping back when he was answered with a heavy thunk against the door.

"Go away, Sarah! I said I don't want to go!" Alfred's voice sounded strained and sad even through his anger and the wood of the door.

Arthur licked his lips and cleared his throat. "It's not Sarah, Alfred. It's me, Arthur. Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

There was silence from within the room for a few moments before the lock clicked and a hand shot out from behind the door and dragged him inside. Alfred slammed the door shut and locked it once again, panting and staring Arthur down with a look fit to kill.

Arthur put his hands up defensively and backed away slowly across the bedroom. "Alfred... I don't know what's got you so upset, but I think we should talk about it and go to the party before the guests start to wonder where..."

"I saw you!" Alfred interrupted, grabbing pillow off the bed and flinging it at Arthur.

"Ooof! You saw me what?" Arthur caught the pillow and tossed it aside, half wishing he'd kept it as a shield a moment later when Alfred came rushing towards him.

"You snuck out to see Matthew! I saw you earlier! You won't play with me or talk to me, but you snuck out to see him!" Fat, angry tears were threatening to spill over onto Alfred's fiery cheeks at any moment.

Arthur stood in shock, then opened his mouth to say something, but Alfred cut him off again with a shove to his stomach.

"Why do you hate me, Arthur? I thought we were friends!" Alfred shoved him again and again, but Arthur didn't fight back, just letting him get it out of his system until he finally broke down crying.

"Why do you hate me?" Alfred was sobbing grotesquely, leaning into Arthur and trying to bury his face in his stomach. Arthur let him do it until the weight became to much and they both collapsed to the floor.

"Shush, Alfred. I don't... I don't hate you. I'm sorry I haven't been so... kind to you lately, but I don't hate you." He ran his fingers tentatively through Alfred's hair, unsure what else to do to soothe him.

Alfred took a few shuddering breaths, refusing to unwrap his arms from around Arthur's middle. "But you don't like me as much as Matthew!"

A bolt of guilt drove through Arthur and he winced at the truth of what Alfred had said. It wasn't that he didn't like Alfred; it was just different, easier even, with Matthew, but it was clear now that Alfred had picked up on that and translated it to Arthur replacing him.

Swallowing awkwardly, Arthur kept stroking Alfred's hair. "Don't be silly. Matthew is my friend, just as you are, but that doesn't mean I like you any less."

There was no response other than a tightening of Alfred's arms has he buried his face in Arthur's waistcoat once again and sobbed harder.

"Come now, Alfred! What can I do to make you feel better? We have to get to the party sometime, and you can't be in hysterics."

Alfred hiccuped unintelligibly a few times before blurting out, "Can you just hug me?"

Arthur felt so guilty and sad at the request that he obliged as strongly as he could. Alfred continued to shake and cry for a while, occasionally bawling "I thought you hated me" and "Don't leave" as Arthur held him. Arthur was scared and upset almost to the point of tears himself, but he ignored the knocks on the door and Jack's questioning calls for the boys.

Yao and Sarah could wait. The party could wait.

He was needed right where he was.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I was quite surprised by the strong reaction to the hints at Arthur/Matthew in the last chapter. Some of you were excited for a twist, while others were quite disappointed in it. I just want to assure you that this story is and will end up being USUK, as per Belsiret/Leatherclad Lovely's original request. ****Thanks for just rolling with it if you can, and if not, I'll have no hard feelings! **


	7. Chapter 7

It took another few minutes for Alfred to cry himself out, and even then he still refused to budge from the floor, whimpering and tightening his grip around Arthur whenever he made so much as a fidget to get more comfortable. The knocking at the door became more and more urgent and Arthur called out that they were fine and would be out in a few moments. It was probably a lie though, if Alfred's possessive hold was anything to go by.

Arthur squirmed and tried to sit Alfred up on the floor next to him instead having him practically in his lap; Alfred's weight had made Arthur's legs go tingly and useless feeling and he needed to shake some life back in to them.

"If you're feeling better now, Alfred, maybe we should get to the party."

Alfred shook his head.

"But think of all the fun you'll miss! There will be food and music and the Joker is here! You don't want to miss the chance to see him, do you?"

"I'd rather stay with you."

"I'm not going anywhere! I'll be right there the whole time."

Alfred's brow furrowed and he played with the buttons on Arthur's jacket. "But it won't be the same. I'll have to share you and I don't like it."

Arthur laughed nervously. "What do you mean by that?"

"There are other people here to see you, and I don't want them to. It should just be you and me and no one else. You're mine."

Mouth going dry, Arthur tried to keep the tone light-hearted. "Well, I don't know how that could be. People aren't things, Alfred. People don't belong to one another. That would be silly. Could you imagine? If people started deciding they owned one another? That would be ridiculous."

The look on Alfred's face very clearly expressed that he did not believe it would be silly in the least, and Arthur began to feel quite uncomfortable.

"Why don't we think of it this way? We both live here, and we're friends and we do all sorts of things together. We have one another. But we don't _belong_ to one another. Do you see the difference?"

"Not really."

There would be no winning this argument, apparently. Arthur felt ill at ease with Alfred's emerging possessiveness, but there was little he could do to curtail it. It would just be an attitude to be mindful of, and addressed again later if it grew into a true problem. For now, Arthur had to focus on getting through the next several hours without embarrassing his family or the House.

"Never mind, then. Do you think you could manage to go to the party though... for me?"

Alfred mulled it over, fingers running over the fabric of Arthur's waistcoat. "I suppose. But only if you promise you aren't going to be mean to me ever again!"

"I promise. Now, let's get you cleaned up."

Arthur sent Alfred to wash his face while he replaced the pillows on the bed and finally let Yao and Sarah in. There was a flurry of activity as Sarah set to smoothing out all the wrinkles on the boys' clothes as best she could and then slicking Alfred's hair down with a wet comb, much to his disdain. Despite her best efforts at plastering his hair into a courtly shape, his odd cowlick remained standing and his fringe refused to stay in place. Arthur noted wryly that Sarah didn't even attempt to do anything with his own choppy locks, not that it would have done much good anyway. There was no point trying to make someone as plain as Arthur look princely; it wasn't in his cards to be dashing and handsome like his older brother, and Arthur could already tell that Alfred would be better looking than himself. Then again, there was no rule stating that the Queen had to be beautiful, so he supposed the Kingdom would just have to make due.

As Yao ushered them down the hallways once more, Arthur began to grow nervous again. All those people knew he would someday be Queen and regardless of the fact that they were here for a celebration, they would be judging Arthur and his family. He didn't think he could stand it if they all took to whispering about him, sure that they would be saying the most awful things: _There goes Arthur Kirkland, the little nobody they chose for Queen. What were they thinking choosing such an odd boy? And how queer that he has the Gift. There must be something wrong with him._

Arthur imagined every nasty thing anyone could possibly have to say about him, knowing that they would all be true. He felt inferior for a position he didn't even want, felt he had to prove he was worthy of a fate he had been fighting against only hours before. It was all so confusing and Arthur found himself wishing that Yao hadn't gone to the trouble of throwing him a birthday party at all, even if he was grateful.

By the time they could hear gentle music wafting towards them from the main ballroom, Arthur's heart was pounding. Maybe it would have been better to indulge Alfred and skip the party all together. Arthur balled his shaking fists at his sides, curling his fingers up to fidget with the cuff of his coat sleeves. He was nearly to the point of biting his nails- a bad habit his mother had tried all sorts of awful methods to break him off- when he was taken by surprise by the feeling of Alfred's hand in his own. Arthur was too dumbfounded to try to pull his hand away, but he looked down at Alfred as he walked beside him, taking quicker steps to keep up with Arthur's slightly longer stride.

"It's so they know," Alfred said matter-of-factly, still looking straight ahead.

Arthur didn't get a chance to ask what he meant before the doors to the ballroom were opened by two servants and the noise inside died down to barely a whisper.

Yao stepped into the room confidently, the earlier stresses of the evening not even registering in his voice and posture as he welcomed the guests.

"Dearest ladies and gentlemen, I am honoured to see you in the Palace this evening as we formally announce and welcome to the House of Spades a most promising and cherished young charge. It is my pleasure to introduce to you his Highness, Alfred, future King of Spades, and his companion, Arthur Kirkland, in whose honour we have gathered and whose thirteenth birthday we are celebrating tonight."

There was polite applause as Yao moved aside and turned to gesture to Arthur, who was still frozen in the doorway. If it hadn't been for Alfred's gentle tug forward, he might have never entered the room at all, completely intimidated by the swell in the number of guests in the last few hours. Mortified, Arthur realized that over the applause he could hear the cooing and tittering of nearly half the women in the room; he hoped it was merely because of Alfred's presence, but even some of the men were whispering and pointing, the volume of chuckles and giggles increasing as more and more of the guests registered the fact that Alfred and Arthur were holding hands.

Either unaware of or not bothered by the guests' reaction, Alfred continued to all but drag Arthur behind him until they had made it to the centre of the floor. Silence took the room again as all present bowed their heads respectfully toward the future King, and, though Alfred didn't know it, the future Queen. Arthur felt his face grow hot, wishing they would stop bowing, only to have his wish granted moments later as Yao invited all of the guests to help themselves to the bountiful food and drink and the musicians began to play once again.

A few families approached the boys, bowing again and introducing themselves, but most seemed content to stay a mindful distance away, stealing glances at the pair as Yao led them to the area of the ballroom where the rest of the Kirkland family was stationed. Arthur's entire family was present, even his younger brothers Andrew and Oliver, though they were barely more than toddlers. They stood with hands gripping their maid's skirt, too shy to do anything other than smile briefly before hiding their faces when the Jack greeted them. Alfred was not remotely shy, however, very seriously shaking both Arthur's father, and his older brother, William's, hands and kissing his mother's, much to the amusement of the adults. Still Alfred did not let go of Arthur's hand through all of this, and Arthur's palm was beginning to get itchy and sweaty from the constant contact and nerves. Luckily, Arthur's hand was freed when the group was seated at one of the tables and served an elaborate meal, though Alfred did insist on sitting pressed up against him and, of course, stealing his tomatoes.

As the guests began to finish their meals, a few couples took to the dance floor, swaying gracefully in time to the music. Much to his horror, Arthur was made to dance with his mother, tripping over himself numerous times as he neither knew the steps nor had the coordination to perform them even if he had. He was grateful when William tapped him on the shoulder and cut in, but that left him vulnerable to Alfred's possessive grip and in the end he was forced to endure dancing with him instead. Well, it wasn't so much dancing as Arthur holding onto Alfred's hand as the latter made a fool of himself twirling in circles, but at least the few other children in attendance were doing the same and they didn't look out of place.

It seemed that either the other children were reluctant to approach Arthur or they had been told by their parents to stay away, knowing full well that Arthur was more than spoken for and therefore, should be treated with respect and not friendliness. However, one of the bolder girls, who looked to be just a little younger than Arthur, came up to them and curtsied prettily, holding out the skirts of her blue dress with practised grace.

"Good evening, your Highness, and happy birthday, Arthur. My name is Angelique."

Angelique tossed her head and adjusted the two bright red ribbons holding her curled pigtails in place. She was an extremely pretty girl, and Arthur couldn't help but notice how regally she carried herself. He found it fascinating and irritating that she was so confident and was about to nod dismissively and drag Alfred elsewhere when he found a small present shoved under his nose.

"It's a compass. Boring, I know, but Papa owns the docks, so he thinks such things are useful." Angelique shrugged but flashed a pearly smile at Arthur, then placed the gift on the nearest table.

"Oh, I don't think it's boring. Thank you, Miss Angelique, and thank your family for me, as well." Arthur found something about her grin calculating and it made him uncomfortable. She was sizing him up, he could feel it, but he had no idea why.

"Uh-huh. Anyway, it's a nice party. It must be fun living here."

Alfred piped up. "It's loads of fun! We have servants and horses and all kinds of stuff!"

"Oh, do you really?" Angelique arched an eyebrow dramatically, focus entirely on Alfred, now. Arthur got the feeling that the future King had been her aim all along, and he was just dead-weight to her.

"Yeah! And the garden is nice and there's a a huge library upstairs and I have a ton of toys in my room! It's pretty great!"

Angelique extended her hand daintily. "Well, maybe you could show me the garden, your Highness?" She nodded her head towards the open doorway leading out into the gardens. Quite a few couples were strolling through, lit by the colourful paper lanterns strung in the trees for the occasion.

Alfred looked enraptured, and nodded his head, neglecting Arthur's hand for Angelique's. She led him away, sparing Arthur a smug look over her shoulder as she did so.

"They start early, don't they?" A large hand clapped Arthur on the shoulder and he looked up to see a man he'd never met watching as Alfred and Angelique disappeared into the garden.

"I'm sorry?"

"Women. They start early with all their little games, huh?" The man grinned toothily down at Arthur, and he felt his stomach do an odd flip under the gaze of the man's strange red eyes.

"I don't think I know what you mean. Excuse me, sir, but who are you?"

The man's smile grew cocky and he gave a shrill little laugh. "Oh boy, I sure can tell you were raised in the country if you don't know who I am. I'm Gilbert. You can call me Gil. Or the Joker. Other people like to call me that, not that I mind."

Arthur's eyes widened and his jaw dropped a little. This was the infamous Joker, subject of so many rumours and nearly legendary for both his ruthless military prowess and his strange habits and love of odd pranks. People whispered that he was completely insane while others insisted that he was nothing less than a complete genius. Arthur couldn't help but feel that it was mostly likely the former, if looks were anything to go by. Dressed completely in black, the Joker cut an ominous figure with his strangely pale skin. It was impossible to tell how old he was, his face smooth and youthful looking, but his eyes had a hardened look about them and his hair was a silvery white that Arthur had only ever seen on the elderly. With a start, Arthur realized that he had been staring quite unabashedly, and he bowed in a panic.

"I'm sorry, Joker, please forgive me! I did not mean to seem rude!" Flustered, Arthur's voice broke.

Again, the Joker let loose his distinctive, piercing laugh, and clapped Arthur on the shoulder heartily. "Save it, kid, I hate formality. That's why I could never be King. You've got your work cut out for you as royalty, lemme tell ya."

"You were going to be a King?"

The Joker sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah, once upon a time. Let's go for a walk, huh?" Herding Arthur out into the garden, the Joker looked around and started them off in the direction with the least amount of people.

"I was just like you at your age. I'd been chosen to be the next King of Hearts, like I was some big deal or something. I hated it. Every minute. I hated living in the palace and having to study all this useless garbage when I would much rather be out running and hunting and being an actual human being instead of some royal automaton. But my brother, man, he totally got off on all that kingdom stuff."

"Your brother?"

"Ludwig, yeah, my baby brother. They were letting him live in the palace, thinking they could train him up to be my personal attendant or something. Anyway, he loved living there. He loved all that chivalry and duty junk. He was a lot smarter than me, too, so I was always sneaking him history and science books." The Joker stopped walking for a moment and smiled to himself. "Yeah, Ludwig's always been pretty awesome. And I knew he would be a better King than I ever could be, so I came up with this plan. You know how the King and Queen are supposed to choose successors when they decide to step down from the throne? Well, my sixteenth birthday rolls around and they shove that crown on my head. I'm King for not even fifteen minutes before I'm standing up in front of this giant crowd, all these people who have come to see me, and I get up and say "As nice as this has been, I'm tired of being King, and I'm done. I'm officially resigning and I name my brother as heir" and that was that. I walked away."

Arthur was stunned. "But what happened next?"

The Joker grimaced. "War. A bad one. The King of Clubs saw the change in power as an opportunity to strike and expand his territory. This was before all of the Kingdoms were united, mind you, so it was pretty much a free for all. I went rogue and tried to lead this counter-strike. I may have hated royal life, but I was good at military strategy, and in the end, everyone agreed to sign a peace treaty, the same one that's holding everything together today."

"Wow. I didn't know any of that."

"Really? You mean your father never told you?"

"Told me what?"

"Well, I guess this was all a while before you were born, but still, no one ever told you? Kid, there's a reason you're here; you're not the future Queen on accident. There's a great nationalistic pride associated with the Kirkland name."

"Why?"

"Your father was the one who wrote up that peace treaty. He fought in the war, of course, but with a wife and kid at home, I guess he had more to lose than most and he wanted it over with. He proposed the whole thing to King and Queen, and it all went from there. And now you're here. I think Yao wants to remind the people how far they've come in the last fifteen years, and what better way than to make the son of the man who made peace possible the Queen? Like I said, it wasn't an accident."

Arthur tripped over himself, dumbfounded and disoriented by the Joker's tale. He'd grown up thinking his family was merely blessed in their wealth and good standing in the Kingdom; he'd never heard so much as whisper that it was all because of a war that happened only a few years before his birth. And while he had known his father's profession was in preparing legal documents for the House of Spades, he'd had no idea it all stemmed from a famous peace treaty, the very treaty that made Arthur's betrothal to Alfred possible.

"Whoa, kid, are you alright? Maybe I shouldn't have told you all that; you look pretty pale." The Joker put his hands on Arthur's shoulders to steady him, and examined his face critically.

It took several deep breaths and a few thick swallows for Arthur to feel like he could speak again. "No, I'm fine. It was just a shock, that's all. I had no idea... finish the story."

"There's not much more to it, but let's sit down. I don't want you passing out on me." Arthur was led over to a bench in the garden.

"Did your brother like being King?"

"At first, no, because of the war. He was young, barely older than you are, so even if he couldn't technically be on the throne, he still felt a great responsibility to his Kingdom. Now, though, now that everything is right and he's done a lot of growing up, he loves it. You'll meet him someday and you'll see. He's very serious about his position and he loves serving his people. And then, of course, there's Feli."

Looking up in surprise at the name, Arthur asked, "Feli? You mean the Jack of Hearts?"

"Uh-huh. They're... how should I say this?... they're _involved._ Thick as thieves from day one, and boy did that used to drive me crazy, but now it's much more than that. Fate is a tricky thing. Some people find a reason to fight it, like I did, and others find a reason to surrender. Feli was Ludwig's reason to surrender. I don't think he would leave even if he did hate being King. He loves him too much."

"But... but he's married! To the Que-"

"To the Queen, yeah, so what? That doesn't mean anything. It's a legal agreement and that's it. They make a great team, Ludwig and the Queen, but at the end of the day it's where his heart is that matters." The Joker patted his chest to emphasize his point. "You'll find out soon enough that pairs like you and Alfred are rare. The Queen of Clubs, for example? She's involved with her Jack and the King couldn't care less. And the King of Diamonds? His future Queen is so young that he wouldn't even bother with her even if her brother didn't have her under constant surveillance. Politics is nothing but sex and intrigue, Arthur, and the sooner you figure that out, the more likely you'll be to survive."

Arthur's face heated up. This was certainly not the kind of cavalier conversation he'd imagined having this evening, and especially not with someone like the Joker. No one had ever spoken so candidly to him about the realities of his position, nor about such taboo subject matter. He didn't know much about sex, but he knew enough to know that it was something intensely private and he found thinking of himself being involved in such things both thrilling and terrifying.

The Joker seemed comfortable in the following silence, crossing his legs and lacing his fingers behind his head. He took a deep breath and let it out, neck craning upward as he gazed at the stars overhead, lost momentarily in thought. Pulling out a pocket watch, he puffed his cheeks out as he checked the time, clicking the watch shut and then nudging Arthur.

"We better head back. I have to start the entertainment soon so that we get to the fireworks on time."

Arthur nodded and fell in step. "How did you come to do this sort of thing? I mean, you were such a fierce fighter, I've heard, so how is it that now you're just... "

"A clown? No, don't make that face, I know it's true. I found myself with quite a bit of money and free time after the war, but no one really remembered me. I was just the idiot that abandoned the throne. So I figured I would try to make people happy. I threw a few parties, pulled a few crazy stunts, and then I'm back in the limelight again. I'm this mysterious figure, unattached to a Kingdom, have a totally independent and highly trained army of disenchanted citizens at my disposal, and here I am blowing things up for fun. People talk. And then they start calling me the Joker and it all just stuck and I love it. Don't get me wrong. War is fun; war is beauty. But it's also horror and loss and I've had enough of it for now. Someday I might give all this up and start some trouble, but for now, I'm just happy to see people smiling again."

They saw more and more people in the gardens as they approached the ballroom once more, and Arthur noticed how friendly the Joker was to each person they passed. They might look at him with fear or mistrust, but he smiled at them genuinely, so willing to be open and light-hearted. Arthur stopped when he saw Angelique and Alfred approaching from the opposite direction and he tugged on the Joker's sleeve to get his attention.

"What did you mean earlier about Alfred and I being "rare"? And about Angelique?"

The Joker followed his gaze to where Angelique was very obviously preening for Alfred's attention. It seemed she had it as well, since he was looking at her as if she were the most wonderful person he'd ever met. Arthur felt a strange sensation well up inside him as he watched Alfred fawn all over her, and he clenched his jaw.

"Oh, right... women. Arthur, girls like Angelique... girls in general, even, who are pretty and smart and know it... they're trouble. She knew exactly what she wanted the moment she laid eyes on you and now she's working to get it."

"What do you mean?"

"It's obvious she likes you."

Arthur spluttered in disbelief. "No way! She nearly ignored me! How could you say she likes me if she's spent all her time with Alfred?"

"It's all a game, Arthur. She likes you, but she couldn't just come out and say it, so now she's using Alfred to try to make you jealous. She wants you to wish that you were in Alfred's place so that you'll try hard to please her. Girls think a little competition make them irresistible. It's totally not true!" The Joker clucked his tongue bitterly and crossed his arms. "Real men don't get jealous, they just take what they want. Stupid games don't work. She can have all the attractive, educated, wealthy losers she wants, but it isn't going to make me jealous. I mean... it isn't going to make anyone jealous."

There was an awkward silence that ensued as Arthur tried not to ask who had been making the Joker so miserable, and the Joker tried to pretend he hadn't slipped up.

"Anyway, she totally succeeded in making you jealous, but not the way she wanted."

"What? I'm not jealous! I don't think she's all that good-looking anyway!"

The Joker laughed and leaned down to whisper in Arthur's ear. "You may not wish you were in Alfred's place, but you sure wish you were in hers right now, don't you?"

It took Arthur a moment to understand his meaning, but when it finally dawned on him, he made an indignant noise, face turning bright red.

"I do not! What do I care if Alfred's gone daft over some stupid girl?"

"You know why you care, don't even try to deny it. I saw your face when she was talking to him in the ballroom. That's what I mean by rare. You may not think you do, but you like him. Maybe not a lot, and probably not enough, but in a few years... well, you're going to be a lot more than just jealous if he's still talking to pretty girls."

Arthur clapped his hands over his ears and all but shrieked in embarrassment.

"You're crazy!"

The Joker slung his arm around Arthur's shoulder and started walking him to the ballroom once more.

"So I've been told."

* * *

><p>It seemed that the Joker was right. When the guests gathered inside again, Angelique tried to win Arthur's attention, but found herself on the receiving end of a very cold shoulder. Her face soured and she stomped her foot petulantly. "You have funny eyebrows, anyway!" she sneered as she flounced away, and Arthur, thankfully, didn't see her for the rest of the night. He tried not to take too much satisfaction in the feeling of Alfred's hand in his own once more, the Joker's absurd accusations still fresh in his mind. Still, he felt that this was much better than the alternative of being alone.<p>

The Joker's entertainment was unlike anything Arthur had ever seen. There were acrobats and contortionists performing daring stunts to lively music, jugglers and the Joker himself took focus as he performed an incredible fire-breathing act. It made Arthur thirsty just imagining it, but the Joker seemed fine, relishing in the wild applause as he took his bow. Then everyone was ushered outside to see the fireworks display. Blue and gold exploded in the air with dramatic crashes, and even Peter was in awe, eyes widening impossibly large before he squealed in delight.

As the evening began to draw to a close, more and more guests trickled out of the palace. Arthur was sitting with his family, who was shocked if not flattered to find the Joker in complete adoration of Peter. He had him sitting up on the table in front of him, talking to him and making faces until the baby was exhausted with laughing. Even as Peter began to drift off in his arms, the Joker was absurdly content to rock him back and forth, humming something lightly.

"Lady Kirkland, if you aren't careful, I'm going to steal this baby."

Arthur's mother laughed good-naturedly. "Well, you're more than welcome to him. He can be quite the terror, though it seems he's on his best behaviour for you, Joker."

"Please, call me Gilbert. And truly, Lady Kirkland, he's sweetest thing I've ever seen. He's going to grow up into something awesome, I can tell." The Joker handed the sleeping child off to the family maid, the hour now so late that despite his infatuation, he couldn't bear to keep Peter out of bed.

Arthur's father shook his hand jovially. "Well, you're welcome in our home any time at all. We'd be honoured to have you visit Peter whenever you like."

"Don't think I won't take you up on that offer, sir!"

The family said their goodbyes to the Joker, and he even gave Arthur a hug, handing him a bundle of books wrapped in ribbon. Whispering in his ear, the Joker said, "Keep these away from that worrywart Jack of yours. These books are a bit more tawdry than he'd probably like you to read, but I figure a boy your age needs a little sin, eh?"

Arthur thanked him profusely, hoping that he knew he meant it for more than just the books.

The rest of the Kirklands would be staying the night in several of the guest suites on the third floor, and Arthur's mother kissed him goodnight with the promise to see him in the morning. Everyone laughed again when Alfred asked her for his own kiss goodnight, and she obliged merrily.

A happy tiredness washed over Arthur as he walked with Yao and Alfred back to his rooms. The evening had not been as disastrous as it had first seemed it might be. Arthur had learned valuable new information and all was right with his relationship with both the Jack and future King, if only for the moment.

"Yao?" Alfred asked sleepily.

"Yes, your Highness?"

"Can I stay in Arthur's room tonight?"

Arthur flushed and looked at the floor, certain Yao would be angry at the request, but he merely received a pat on the head.

"Yes, you did get in the habit of doing that while I was away, didn't you? I don't have a problem with it if Arthur does not."

Alfred rubbed his eyes. "Is is okay, Arthur?"

"It's fine with me," Arthur mumbled.

Alfred made a detour to get ready for bed in his own room, leaving Yao and Arthur alone on the walk to their rooms.

"Thank you, Yao, for everything you did tonight. It was the most amazing birthday I've ever had, and I hardly think I deserve it with the way I've treated you lately."

Yao smiled and shook his head. "I've already told you, Arthur: all is forgiven, I only want you to be happy here. This party was just my way of showing you how much I wish that for you."

Arthur nodded gratefully. "I am happy, Yao."

"Then my work here is done."

* * *

><p>Arthur was in his pyjamas and telling Anne all about the wonderful party when Alfred knocked on the door.<p>

"Oh, I think your little guest is here, birthday boy!" Anne teased slyly, and Arthur stuck his tongue out at her. She did the same before letting Alfred in and excusing herself.

Alfred was carrying a heavy looking box wrapped in silvery paper. He set it on the bed before climbing up and motioning for Arthur to do the same. "I brought your present! I picked it out myself!"

Arthur got into bed and pulled the box towards him. "You didn't have to get me a present, Alfred."

"Yes I did! Now open it!"

Tearing through paper to reveal the lid of wooden box, Arthur opened it gingerly and moved the cotton fluff inside away. Inside was porcelain music box, painted in luxurious pastel colours, depicting pastoral scenes with shepherds and their flocks and wood nymphs in trees and playing in streams. Atop the music box was a small, similarly painted sculpture of a faerie dressed in a skirt made of a bluebell. Arthur's mouth hung open as he lifted it gently from the box and placed it on his bedside table, unable to do anything more than stare at it.

"I know how much you like faeries and stuff like that, and you're really good at music, so I thought maybe you would like this."

Arthur found his voice again and smiled. "Alfred, it's the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me! I love it!"

Alfred beamed and snuggled down into the blankets. "Play it!"

After extinguishing all the lamps, Arthur got into bed and reached over to turn the key to the music box. In the moonlight filtering in from the window, he could see the faerie on top begin to rotate as a sweet, intricate tune filled the air. The music box had a delicate, soothing tone and Arthur found himself relaxing into the mattress with each ringing note. When it finished, both boys were quiet for a moment before Arthur let out a soft "wow".

"I have something else for you, too."

"Alfred, I can't possibly accept anything else. This is already too much!"

"No, it didn't cost anything. Close your eyes."

Arthur did as he was told, and laid back against his pillows. He felt Alfred shift, and then he was frozen in confusion as he felt warm breath on his face. Opening his eyes, Arthur felt his stomach do somersaults as he saw Alfred's face hovering inches about his own. He knew what was going to happen, but he couldn't do anything to stop it, and then soft, foreign lips were on his own, if only for the tiniest fraction of a second. Arthur felt like his brain was going to melt from the way his entire body was overheating.

"You were supposed to keep your eyes closed!" Alfred whispered, still much too close to Arthur's face for his liking.

"Why did you do that?" Arthur voice sounded high and strange to his own ears.

"Angelique said you're supposed to do that with someone you really like and it would feel good. Didn't it feel good?"

Arthur didn't even want to know how kissing had come up in the time Alfred had been following Angelique around the garden like a puppy; he had a feeling that this was probably not the first kiss on the lips Alfred had had that day, and that made the weird feeling from before come back with a vengeance.

"Alfred, we can't do that anymore!" Arthur said sternly, and shoved Alfred back to his own side of the bed with half a mind to kick him out all together.

"But why not?" Alfred whined, whacking Arthur half-heartedly with his pillow.

Shoving the pillow back, Arthur sat up and glared down at him. "Because. We're not old enough. We can't do that until we're older."

Alfred withered slightly, but seemed to understand that he had crossed some previously unheard of boundary. "Okay. But when we're older, we can do it a lot, right?"

If Arthur had thought his brain would melt before, it was now ready to flat out explode. He had made a mistake in telling Alfred they were too young; he should have just told them they could never do it again at all, but now Alfred was thinking of a future filled with nothing but kissing and Arthur wished he could just die right then and there.

"We can, right?"

"It's... complicated, Alfred. You'll understand when you're older."

Alfred huffed and rolled his eyes. "Older. Nothing fun happens until you're older."

"Just trust me. And go to sleep." Arthur tried to set a good example by lying back down and pulling the blankets up to his chin. Alfred was quiet and it seemed he had done as he was told, but then he was wiggling his way over and pecked another small kiss onto Arthur's cheek.

"Goodnight, Arthur. And happy birthday."

Unable to find the strength to chastise Alfred again, Arthur rolled over onto his stomach and buried his head beneath his pillow.

He had been a teenager for less than five hours and already Arthur's life had become one thousand times more complicated.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading and reviewing. Updates will be coming much more quickly now as I work to finish this story before my new semester starts. **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Well, hello M rating. Nice of you to drop by for a few seconds. I know some of you are confused by the lack of smut. It will happen, just not as quickly as I'm sure might be preferred.**

* * *

><p>Alfred woke before Arthur the next morning. His eyes felt itchy and gross and he wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but with his mind already awake, it did little good to try. Half-tempted to poke Arthur awake so they could play until Anne made them get dressed for breakfast, Alfred pulled the blankets away from Arthur's face. Arthur always stole the blankets, but Alfred figured it was okay since it was his bed to begin with and he didn't really like being all covered up anyway.<p>

Sitting up, Alfred looked down at his sleeping friend. Arthur was lying on his back, one arm tucked up awkwardly by his head, and the other stretched so far that his fingertips were dangling off the mattress. His night-shirt had risen up so that Alfred could see his bellybutton, and he had to fight the urge to poke him once again. Arthur's hair was an ugly, rumply mess, and Alfred thought it looked funny, like fluffy chicken feathers. He reached out to touch it, surprised at how soft it was and went about petting Arthur's head until he made a weird noise and his face twitched.

Arthur's face was so different from his own. It wasn't just the eyebrows. He didn't have chubby cheeks that all the maids tried to pinch all the time like Alfred did, and he didn't have any freckles on his nose, either. Alfred almost wished he looked like Arthur, just because then he would look older and smarter and more like royalty should. Twitching again, Arthur made a sighing noise through his nose and his tongue peaked out for a moment over his bottom lip.

And then Alfred was staring at Arthur's mouth and thinking about kissing again even though he knew he shouldn't.

The real trouble of it all was that Angelique had been right: it did feel good. She'd made Alfred give her a practice kiss in the garden, but that had mostly felt wet and kind of sticky, and Angelique was the one doing all the work, holding Alfred's face between her hands to make sure he was doing it right. It hadn't been the worst thing in the world, but Alfred hadn't really wanted to do it again with her if it was going to be like that. He guessed that meant that he didn't like her enough. But then he'd decided to kiss Arthur and it was different. He couldn't explain it, exactly, but it felt warm and happy, even if it was still a little wet. Really, his only complaint with the experience was that it had been too short, and that Arthur had cheated by opening his eyes. Kissing was supposed to be an eyes-closed kind of activity, from what Alfred understood and had seen.

Alfred pouted when he thought of the fact that Arthur had forbidden kissing until they were older. He wasn't even sure what that meant. He was older now than he was last night, and in five minutes he would be older than he was now. Did that count as being old enough to kiss? Or would he have to wait a whole month or a year, or what if he had to wait many years and was an old man by the time Arthur said it was alright? Well, that would make Arthur an old man too, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad, but Alfred simply didn't think he could wait that long. He didn't even understand what Arthur's opposition to the whole thing was anyway; as long as they liked each other, it was fine.

Waiting a few more moments to make sure Arthur wasn't going to wake up, Alfred slowly leaned over him. He put his hands on either side of Arthur's pillow to hold himself up, then brought his face as close as he dared. It was almost a shame that Arthur's eyes were closed now, he thought, since they were really pretty. But this was the best he was going to get, and he might even be caught, so there was little time to waste. Alfred leaned the rest of the way down, tilting his head like Angelique had told him so that they wouldn't bump noses, and stole a kiss. It was a little different than before since Arthur's mouth was kind of open and he was breathing weird, and he wasn't moving as much because he was asleep, but it still made Alfred feel the warm, tingly feeling from last night. This time he counted to five in his head before he pulled back. For a brief moment, he almost tried to do it again, but Arthur made an even louder noise and tried to wiggle onto his side, so Alfred had to roll back to his spot and pretend to be asleep. It was a good thing he had, too, since not two minutes after Alfred's heart had stopped beating frantically in a mixture of terror and infatuation, Anne had come into the room to gently wake them.

Arthur didn't say anything about kisses for the whole day, so Alfred knew he had gotten away with it. Now all he had to do was make sure he could stay in Arthur's room often enough that he could keep stealing kisses while his companion slept, and he wouldn't have to do any waiting to grow up at all.

Besides, if he was going to be the King, he should be allowed to boss Arthur around a little bit. He wouldn't hear any complaints where that was concerned.

* * *

><p>Much to Alfred's disappointment, Yao and the maids seemed to have very different opinions on how much Arthur could be bossed. After a few more nights of insisting on camping out in Arthur's room, Yao had had a very serious talk with Alfred about Arthur's privacy. Arthur was getting older and things were going to be different for him. Alfred had no idea why that should be, and the way Yao kept bringing up privacy made him wonder if perhaps he didn't mean something else. The way he said it made him think it had to do with something embarrassing or dirty, and that only made Alfred want to be with Arthur all the more. He wanted to know what could be so private that Alfred was being kicked out. It didn't matter what reason Alfred had for wanting to sleep in Arthur's room- he'd even tried convincing Yao that there was a ghost living under his bed- Alfred was solidly rejected each and every time.<p>

Not only that, but Yao sometimes kept Arthur for extra lessons and Alfred wasn't allowed to stay for those, either. Alfred would have to wait an agonizing amount of time before Arthur would emerge from the study red-faced and miserable looking, and very unwilling to tell what he had learned. He also didn't like Alfred to touch him anymore- no hugs, no hand-holding, no piggy-back rides. Alfred would barely try to sit next to him on the sofa and Arthur would get flustered and move somewhere else. He didn't understand why getting older meant that Arthur couldn't do any of the things they had before, and why it meant that they couldn't sleep with one another.

But then Alfred was ten. He was eleven. He was twelve and thirteen, and finally he understood what Yao had meant by "privacy". He understood why Arthur's cheeks got red sometimes and why he didn't want to be touched. He understood what terribly embarrassing things Yao had told him in all those extra lessons, and he definitely understood why sharing a bed was inappropriate.

That didn't mean he liked it.

And it certainly did not mean he agreed with it.

Alfred may have been only thirteen, but he was already pretty sure he was in love with Arthur, whatever that meant. Well, he knew what it meant. He'd read books and seen plays and heard songs about that kind of thing and they all said that love made your heart hurt and beat really fast, and that it meant that you couldn't stop thinking about someone and that, most importantly, it meant you wanted to kiss them. After five years of not being able to sneak one, Alfred was completely sure that he wanted to do the last bit, and he wanted to do a lot of it.

Then there were all the other things beside kissing that you could do, things that seemed really gross at first, but the more he thought about them, the more he realized that maybe doing them with Arthur wouldn't be such a terrible thing. It might be kind of nice. Matthew had told him all sorts of dirty stuff, stuff he'd heard from the other stablehands and even stuff he'd actually tried. Alfred snuck out to the stables without Arthur more and more often, just to see if Matt could tell him anything new, and he was almost never disappointed. Matt had even had sex with a girl, and that meant, in Alfred's view at least, that he knew everything about the world. Alfred wasn't sure if he ever wanted to do that with a girl at all, but it was nice to know he had an expert who could answer all his questions.

Of course, now that his head was filled with all sorts of odd thoughts, he couldn't help wondering if Arthur knew all of it, too. Alfred flushed when he realized that if Arthur was older, he probably knew even _more_. But just because he knew it, it didn't mean he had done it. Alfred couldn't think of anyone Arthur would like enough to kiss or do other things with. Arthur stayed in the palace, and he didn't really talk to the other people his age when Yao threw parties or important families came to visit. Alfred felt assured knowing that if Arthur was in love with someone, he would know by now. Unfortunately, this also meant that Alfred could be sure that Arthur didn't love him. If anything, Arthur treated him like a little brother. He teased him and scolded him and sometimes he would ruffle his hair or clap him on the back, but that was it. It didn't matter how mature he tried to act or how hard he worked at his studies to prove he was responsible- Arthur would still just smile at him like he was a baby and call him awful nicknames like "Alfie". That was the worst. Alfred knew whenever Arthur called him "Alfie" it was because he was doing something silly or cute, not something heroic and attractive.

Being attractive was fast becoming one of Alfred's primary focuses in life. He used to not care if his face and hands got dirty from playing outside, or if his clothing got mussed and wrinkled. He used to think his hair was fine just the way it was; but now, now he spent far too long in the mirror each morning trying to comb it into a mature and dashing style and criticizing his face. Was his nose too big? Arthur's nose was perfect. Was his skin clear enough? Arthur didn't have any skin problems. Why couldn't he have brighter blonde hair like Arthur? Arthur's hair was a nicer colour. And then getting dressed was another uphill battle because it seemed like Alfred had gotten even chubbier overnight. Nothing looked good enough on him to his own eyes, and if he didn't like it, then Arthur certainly wouldn't. It served him right, though. Arthur was always teasing him for his appetite and now the evidence was lodged snugly around Alfred's middle and in his chubby cheeks. It was no wonder that Arthur treated him like a baby: he still looked like one!

Worse still, Arthur's looks were becoming a major distraction for Alfred. More than once he'd completely lost his place when reading out loud in lessons because he was staring at Arthur as he read, watching the way his mouth moved so smoothly around words so that Alfred wasn't listening to what he was saying so much as he was listening to his voice. It had gotten deeper over the last few years, still full of cracks and whines when Arthur got worked up over something, but the majority of the time is was rich and strong sounding. Alfred's voice hadn't even started to change yet, so he thought he sounded almost like a girl in comparison, and he tried to make himself talk lower.

Alfred knew that Arthur was definitely not conventionally attractive. He was kind of skinny and bony looking and he was really pale. He wasn't even all that much taller than Alfred. Whenever events were held in the palace, the other young men and women their age talked behind his back; the girls thought he was ugly, the boys thought he was strange. Alfred thought that they were out of their minds. Arthur wasn't perfect, Alfred knew that much, but he had never yet been attracted to anyone else. Maybe it was because he'd never been outside of the palace or met enough people his age to really know what he liked, but Alfred preferred to think of it as fate.

Fate wasn't always kind, though. Alfred tried not to let it sting, but he knew all too well that he wasn't the only one paying visits to Matthew. Although it never got out of control like it had the night of Arthur's birthday party (now that Alfred was old enough to understand his feelings, he was incredibly embarrassed that he had broken down like that), Alfred was jealous that Arthur still felt he needed to be secretive about seeing his half-brother. It just made Alfred jump to the conclusion that something was going on and then he would think of all the dirty things Matthew had told him and automatically assume the worst. He didn't think Arthur was like that, but what if he was just being naïve and they were laughing at him behind his back?

And recently, an even scarier thought had begun to bounce around Alfred's already confused and overly hormonal mind. Yao had said that Arthur was living in the palace in order to be educated and act as a companion for Alfred while he grew up. What would happen when Arthur's tutoring was over? Would he leave? Would he simply grow too old to be Alfred's companion and that would be the end? And if he did leave, did that mean that he had never really been Alfred's friend to begin with? Suddenly Alfred was imagining Arthur in the larger picture of life beyond the palace, a life that would be filled with new people and a maybe a lover and a family and no place for him at all.

It was his duty as King to marry whomever was chosen as Queen, but Alfred hadn't heard a single thing about any potential betrothals despite the fact that he would take the crown in only three years. He certainly didn't think he was ready to be married, but it was a reality he had to face, and would much prefer to be aware of with plenty of time to adjust. It hurt to know that his dreams of marrying for love were going to be soundly dashed; it hurt even more to imagine losing Arthur.

Faster than he realized, Alfred's childhood had faded away. He couldn't live in an insulated bubble where his future was a far-off golden "if" and his past was just some unfortunate nightmare that could be banished by a few kind words. For the first time in his life, the gravity of his situation was a reality for Alfred, and more and more he felt both ill-equipped to handle it, and very, very alone.

* * *

><p>"I have some exciting news for the both of you!" Yao was hurrying into the study, thirty minutes late for the boys' morning lessons. Alfred had been all for just leaving and stalling for time by making Yao track them down after he decided to show up, but Arthur had chastised and guilted him into waiting. Alfred picked his head up off the table and leaned his chin into the palm of his hand, very much not in the mood for whatever it was Yao considered exciting news.<p>

"Well, don't you want to know?" Yao put the stack of books he was cradling in his arms down on the table with a loud bang, looking between Alfred and Arthur with enthusiastic incredulity.

"I'm sorry, what?" Arthur replied, looking dazed as he tore his eyes away from the page of well-worn novel he had been reading while they waited. Alfred noted how pink in the face he looked and he craned his neck to try and see what it was Arthur had been so absorbed with, but Arthur caught him looking and snapped the book shut.

Yao gave an exasperated groan and sat down, pulling a letter out from the folds of his court robes.

"Seriously, gentleman! This is something I think you will both enjoy!"

"Then just tell us! Really, Yao, you sound like a gossipy maid!" Alfred rolled his eyes and slumped in his chair once again, jumping when Arthur reached over and pinched him for being rude.

Ignoring the small battle of pokes and prods that ensued, Yao waved the letter triumphantly.

"I've been in contact with the other Houses for some time now, and they have finally agreed to let us host the Deck Council meeting. They think it's high time that Alfred was introduced to his soon-to-be responsibilities."

"Really?" Alfred stopped trying to flick Arthur's ear and reached for the letter. "When are they coming?"

"We have decided to schedule the meeting for early summer. That gives you both about eight weeks to prepare."

Alfred skimmed the letter, confirming everything that Yao had just said, and ending with a large, flowery signature at the bottom that read "King Francis". Arthur read over his shoulder, and though Alfred could have handed it over to him, he found he much preferred the way Arthur's breath was ghosting down his neck and across his cheek instead. That ended, however, when Arthur snatched the paper from between Alfred's fingertips and held it up to his nose. A look of confusion crossed Arthur's face before he indicated to Alfred to sniff at the letter.

"Roses?" Alfred had never know official correspondence to be scented, but it seemed King Francis had a style all his own.

"Wait. Why does Arthur have to prepare for the meeting?"

Yao's gaze flickered to Arthur's momentarily, then he set about retrieving the letter and returning it to the folds of his robe. "The Deck Council thought that perhaps, given the high standing of Arthur's family and his intended... profession, that some exposure to politics might be beneficial."

"What profession?"

"Legal work." Arthur replied before Yao could open his mouth. "My father did it, and he wants me to follow in his footsteps. That's all."

Arthur and Yao shared another long look, and Alfred was beginning to feel quite out of the loop. Before he could question them further, Arthur was clearing his throat and licking his bottom lip. Alfred had noticed he always licked his lips before he was going to ask a question and it was a habit that had proven very distracting for Alfred as a student, but quite provocative for his imagination.

"What did you want us to prepare exactly, Yao?"

Leaning back in his chair, Yao pursed his lips. "I think the first thing we might consider is the two of you providing some sort of entertainment during the first banquet. Something small. Perhaps a reading or short speech? I think it would make a good impression."

"A speech? Ugh, Yao, I don't want to make a speech!"

"What if we played something? A short musical piece?" Arthur offered, and then smiled wryly. "That is, if Alfred thinks he could manage."

Alfred bristled and smacked Arthur's arm. "Hey! I'm not that bad! I could do it!"

"That sounds like a fine idea to me, Arthur." Yao nodded in satisfaction. "I think the Jack of Clubs would greatly enjoy seeing the product of his tutelage, as would the rest of the Council."

"We'll just be sure to find something easy." Arthur deadpanned.

"Hey!" Alfred lunged to prod Arthur again, but he was evaded and nearly fell out of his chair, which only set Arthur to laughing.

"Calm down, Alfie, I was only teasing."

Alfred could have shrieked over the nickname, instead grumbling "Don't call me that" and righting himself in the chair.

Yao also looked to be fighting back laughter, but he held himself together enough to continue. "I've also prepared some lessons specific to the creation of the Deck Council and the responsibilities of the monarchy of each house." Here he pushed the stacks of books toward the boys. "I've bookmarked some relevant passages for you both to consider and then we can discuss them more in depth at a later time. While you get started with these, I will need some time to inform the house staff of our upcoming event. Arthur, I'm looking to you to keep today's lesson focused in my absence." By the way Yao was giving him a level look, Alfred could tell that he actually meant that Arthur's job would be in keeping him focused.

When Yao had departed, Arthur took to reading the titles of each book and separating them by subject matter. He divided the work into two piles and pushed one towards Alfred.

"Well, I guess we can start like this and then switch? It won't take that long, I don't think."

Eyeing the impressive stack of books in front of him, Alfred sent Arthur a withering look.

"You know, sometimes, I really hate you."

Arthur rolled his eyes and opened a book, flipping pages until he found the bookmark.

"Yes, yes, and I love you."

It wasn't fair. Alfred knew he was joking. He knew it didn't mean anything. So why did it still make his stomach clench and face feel hot? He wished he could retaliate with something witty and cruel to make Arthur feel just as hurt as he did, but all he could think of was how much he wished he didn't have to feel that way at all.

* * *

><p>Noon had come and gone by the time the boys had finished with their study. Alfred was trailing doggedly as Arthur walked back to his rooms, already nose deep in the novel from before. Curiosity overtaking him, Alfred made a dive for the book, only to have it pulled out of his reach.<p>

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

"I want to know what's so important that you have to be reading it all the time!" Alfred cried, reaching once again but missing as Arthur held the book over his head.

"And you couldn't just ask?" Arthur went on tiptoe to increase the distance between the book and Alfred's snatching fingers.

"You know, this only works if you're taller than me!" Alfred growled, nearly managing to steal his prize.

Arthur kept backing away, and Alfred kept pursuing, resorting to light jabs at Arthur's middle in the hopes that he would be ticklish enough to drop the book. When no such luck prevailed, Alfred decided to play dirty, backing Arthur up against a wall until they were nose to nose.

"Can I have it now?" Alfred panted in Arthur's face, leaning almost all of his weight onto him as he groped upward.

It seemed to be having the desired affect since Arthur's face turned red and he held his breath, turning his head to the side to get away. "Alright, alright! Just get off of me." Alfred ignored the request, taking his time as he finally grasped the book and lowered his arms. He gave Arthur a smug grin before turning away and flipping through the pages.

"What is it, anyway?"

"They're just adventure stories the Joker gave me a while ago. Completely harmless." Arthur busied himself with straightening his clothes, and his voice was so high and tight that Alfred knew he wasn't telling the whole truth.

Flipping and scanning through a few more pages revealed what had Arthur so embarrassed. Alfred paused to read a passage, and then giggled.

"Ohhhhh so it's a kissing book! No wonder you keep reading it."

"It is not! Well, it has some of that in there, but it's an adventure story, really!" Arthur tried to take the book back. "What part are you reading anyway?"

Alfred ignored his question and whirled around to keep walking toward the rooms. "Hmmm, I don't know, there seems to be an awful lot of kissing here. I don't think I believe you."

"I swear it isn't anything bad!"

"I'm sure Yao wouldn't be happy to know that you have these. Maybe I should tell him, so he can protect you."

Arthur grabbed at his shoulders. "No! Please don't! What if I let you borrow them? You can see for yourself that they aren't bad! Hmm?"

Alfred pretended to mull it over for a moment, enjoying the way he had control of Arthur for the moment. "I guess that would be okay. Deal."

"Fine. We can get the rest out of my room." They walked further down the hall for a little ways before Arthur nudged Alfred. "You wouldn't really have told would you?"

"Probably not."

"Brat."

"Sour-puss."

"Idiot."

"Freak."

Arthur faltered, and tried to say something, but didn't. Alfred looked over and the expression on his face was nearly heartbroken.

"Hey, I was just playing around. Arthur?"

"No. I mean, yes, it's fine, sorry I was just..." Arthur shook his head as if to shake the thoughts away, but didn't say anything else.

Alfred felt guilty and he wasn't even sure what he had really done. After a few moments, he linked his arm through Arthur's fondly, and tried to lighten the mood.

"Do you want to go for a walk? We could go to the lake for a while."

Arthur bit his lip and squirmed away so Alfred's hold on his arm was considerably lessened. "Actually, I was planning on doing some other things this afternoon."

It didn't take much for Alfred to understand the tone of his voice. "Matthew, right?"

"What?" Arthur got tongue-tied and pulled away from Alfred completely. "That's not... no... I was..."

"It's fine, Arthur, you don't have to lie."

Arthur's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "You don't mind, then?"

Placing a sympathetic hand on Arthur's arm, Alfred looked him in the eye. "I already know. He's your friend. He's mine, too. It... it isn't like before. When we were younger? I know I don't... I know I can't expect you to... well, anyway, just go, I guess. I'm not mad or anything. It's fine."

"Why don't you come with me? We can visit him together," Arthur pleaded, and Alfred almost felt bad for bringing the issue up at all. Still, a small, but very loud part of him was hoping that Arthur would feel guilty enough to stay.

"No, you guys don't want me there. Some other time, maybe."

Arthur looked uneasy, but nodded. "Alright. I'll see you at dinner then."

"Arthur, wait!" Alfred blurted out as the other turned to go. He wasn't sure what he had wanted to say, so he let instinct guide his actions. Before he could be stopped, Alfred pecked Arthur on the cheek. "Thank you. For the books, I mean."

Wiping the kiss spot with the back of his hand, Arthur smiled confusedly, and patted Alfred on the head. It would have felt nice if it wasn't just one more reminder that Arthur still didn't take him seriously, but Alfred craned up into the touch all the same.

"You're welcome, you silly little prat. Just make sure you hide them from Yao. I don't want to get Gilbert in trouble."

Alfred waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "So they are dirty?"

"Oh, hush, you!"

This is what Alfred wanted. He wanted more laughter and teasing and time. It was easy, with Arthur; easy in the hardest way possible, but it was better than the alternative of being alone.

* * *

><p>Alfred spent the rest of the afternoon lying on his bed, reading the first in the series of books Arthur had given him. He was surprised at how entertaining the story was, and he was well past the middle by the time the first scandalous chapter appeared. Arthur hadn't been lying: it was an adventure story, with pirates and assassins and lost treasure and doomed lovers. It was a little cheap, but it was a nice way to pass the time. Still, laced throughout the somewhat outrageous plot were passages about longing and terrible lusty dialogue and even worse scenes with melodramatic lovemaking. Alfred thought it was hilarious, and the fact that Arthur had read the book so many times that it would fall open to certain pages by itself made the whole thing even more amusing. But even if he couldn't take it completely seriously, he had to wonder if the things in the book could happen in real life and if they felt at all as good as the characters made it seem they did.<p>

Deciding he would try to find out for himself, Alfred flipped back a few chapters to the part where the sweet fisherman's daughter was being ravished by the handsome pirate hero. At first there was whole bunch of kissing, but Alfred couldn't really do that to himself, so he just skipped ahead. Then there was kissing in other places besides the mouth, and still Alfred couldn't do that to himself. The best he could manage was a kiss to the inside of his own wrist, and that didn't felt like anything special at all. In the end, Alfred put the book down and decided to experiment his own way; armed with the knowledge of what lovemaking was hypothetically like, he figured he could imitate a few things closely enough to give him an idea of whether or not it was all it was cracked up to be.

He decided to try touching all the places the book characters had kissed, and he found that even if it didn't feel amazing, it felt like _something._ A few little strokes to his neck and thighs and he was actually feeling quite relaxed; that wasn't the desired result, of course, so he knew he must be doing something wrong. Perhaps the problem was him. It was hard to like the feelings if you knew if was just your own fingers.

Everything changed. The second he started pretending someone else was doing all the petting (a very specific someone) all the spots being touched lit up like fireworks. Alfred started to feel hot and he felt almost sick to his stomach with some sort of aching sensation. He knew what came after this. There had a been a few sticky accidents in the morning, and a few very purposeful instances of self-pleasure, but this time he had a very clear image of what he wanted in his head.

Alfred rolled over on to his stomach and brought his knees up a little, legs just wide enough apart that he could get a hand between them. The awkward rocking into his hand and groping over his trousers was incredibly far from the fantasy Alfred had playing in his head, but it was still enough to make him bite into his pillow and wiggle around desparately. It didn't take long for a strong, scary heat to start where his hand was making sloppy circles, and instead of letting it happen, Alfred stopped moving all together, laying on his side and clenching his thighs together with his hands over his face. He drew his knees up and held his breath until the feeling went away and all that was left was an itchy emptiness that made him want to squirm.

His palms were sweaty and his face felt like it was burning. Alfred rubbed his eyes, shame stinging in the corners. He tried to move his legs, but he found that if he so much as shifted the wrong way, the terrible longing sensation would come back. He decided he couldn't handle it, so he just lay in his bed, feeling hot and sick and miserable, knowing it was all his own fault anyway.

Still, he couldn't get the images and ideas out of his head. It was like his brain wanted to punish him for the things his body couldn't help doing, and Alfred covered his ears as if it would block the sinful sounds he was hearing inside his fantasy world.

Did it feel as good as the books said? Yes.

Was it worth it? No.

Not at all.

When he finally felt calm enough, Alfred rolled onto his stomach again and tried to sleep a little before dinner. It was going to take a lot of effort to forget what had just happened, and even more to look Arthur in the eye again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Don't kill me. And a Happy New Year to you all! Thank you for your continued support on this little request-fic run wild. It's making me so happy. **


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur stopped back in at his room before going down to see Matthew. He wanted to think that the only reason he was washing his face and fussing with his hair was because he thought it personally important to look his best at all times, but even he couldn't delude himself entirely. He was preening; he was preening and he knew it. Even after years of having to endure parties and balls, being teased by air-headed upper class girls who had nothing better to do than to fluff and powder themselves like great, foolish birds, he still couldn't stop himself from doing the exact same narcissistic grooming. Though, it wasn't fair to cast aspersions on women simply because they were pretty; the men were awful, too. All slicked hair and dashing figures, expensive shoes and rings and too much cologne, but then again, perhaps it was simply because Arthur couldn't be like them that he hated them. He could scrub his face until it was pink and he could comb his hair until it all fell out, but he was never going to look and carry himself like _they_ did. He was plain, and he would always be plain and there was nothing much he could do about it.

Still, he ran a brush through his hair, trying to make it flatten in a more attractive shape. He searched through a cabinet until he found a small glass bottle of cologne that his mother had sent him for his last birthday. Personally, he thought it smelled like a woman's perfume mixed with moth balls, but he daubed a little of it onto his wrists and neck anyway. Another few moments spent straightening his collar and necktie and he finally felt he could see Matthew.

It was important to look nice for friends. You needed to impress friends. Arthur kept telling himself that over and over as he walked down the path to the stables, attributing the increased hammering of his heart solely to the fact that he hadn't seen Matthew in a while and not the fact that he was seeing him at all.

He searched all the usual places, but he couldn't seem to find Matthew anywhere. He did come across another stablehand but it was a much older man, and he gave Arthur such a condescending look as he passed by that he didn't feel comfortable asking if he knew the whereabouts of his friend. Just about to give up and head back, Arthur caught sight of a young woman walking between the rows of stalls, carrying a bucket with some brushes in it. She nodded to him courteously, and made to move past, but he called out to stop her.

"Umm, excuse me, miss! Do you work here, I mean with the horses and such? "

The girl flicked a frizzy strand of her red hair out of her eyes and nodded. "Yes, sir, I do. Can I help you with something?"

"Oh, good then, yes. I'm looking for Matthew." Arthur noted the girl pursed her lips and arched a single eyebrow as if annoyed, but then quickly got her expression under control and sighed as if being quite put upon in helping Arthur.

"He's down the way I came. We were grooming, but I've finished my share. I can take you to him, if it pleases you." The tone of her voice very clearly indicated that it would not please her in the least, so Arthur just shook his head.

"No, thank you, I think I'll manage." He brushed past her with a nod, but he couldn't help but to hear the sad sigh that came from the girl as she departed. Arthur turned around and watched her go, her shoulders significantly more slumped than before, and he could see she was rubbing her eyes. It was all very peculiar, but then again, Arthur supposed she just might be having a bad day.

Matthew was at the end of the row of stalls, tying a bay mare to one of the posts outside. He clucked at the horse soothingly a few times, running sure hands over her neck and withers. Arthur just stood and watched for a few moments, arms crossed over his middle and a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he cocked his head. Matthew was no longer the slight, feminine child that Arthur had been fascinated by so many years ago. With his hair drawn back, it was easy to see where juvenile roundness had abandoned his face for a much sharper and stronger profile. His eyes were still wide and bright, and his mouth was still full and soft looking, but there was no more of the petal-like fragility to his face and skin. He looked like a man, with broad, straight shoulders and hands larger than even Arthur's long and slender ones. Arthur had done quite a bit of growing in the last few years, but even with his newly gained height he would still have to look up or else end up talking to Matthew's chin. Only a little frustrated by this, Arthur actually felt some sense of overwhelming pride when he looked at Matthew. It wasn't as if he had anything to do with his maturation, but the mere fact that he was there to enjoy it made him happy, somehow.

Going to retrieve his bucket of grooming supplies, Matthew finally looked up and saw Arthur. He jumped a little, before his face broke out into a wide, warm smile and he rushed forward to give Arthur a friendly clap on the back.

"What are you doing here? I thought for sure you'd be too busy to come down."

Arthur turned the back patting into an actual hug, going on tip toe to successfully accomplish his goal. "Why would I ever be too busy?"

"With the Council coming up, I figured Yao would have you locked up studying and trying to civilize Alfred", he said, pulling away gently. He was always doing that, Arthur noticed; whenever Arthur so much as touched his arm teasingly, Matthew would try to subtly scoot away. It was different if Matthew was the one initiating the contact, so perhaps it had something to do with his residual shyness.

Arthur rolled his eyes at the mention of Alfred. "I don't think we're likely to civilize that boy by the time he's crowned, let alone in two months. But how do you know of the Council already? I barely found out this morning."

Matthew shrugged. "News travels fast. And there were rumours for some time, so it was already on everyone's minds." He paused for a moment, then leaned forward, a look of confused concentration on his face. "Are you wearing cologne?"

Face turning scarlet, Arthur backed away. "So what if I am?"

"That's odd, for you. Who are you trying to impress, anyway? You stink of the stuff." Matthew turned back to his work, pulling out a hoof pick and going to examine the mare's feet. This left Arthur to splutter and stomp his foot indignantly.

"I'm not trying to impress anyone! Besides, what do you know? _You_ stink of _horse_!"

Matthew looked up and grinned. "Well, it's my job to."

"Then it's my job to wear cologne!"

"I suppose that's true enough, _your Highness," _Matthew cooed teasingly.

"Oh, shut up."

Arthur watched as Matthew finished his inspection. The mare refused to lift the final hoof, and Matthew massaged down her hock tenderly.

"C'mon now, sweetheart, we've done this before. Don't be difficult."

The mare huffed out of her nose and then obliged in picking up her foot. Matthew gave her a soft "thank you" and when he had finished with his cleaning he patted her all over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

This is what Arthur liked most about Matthew. He was simple. Not in an uneducated, sloppy sort of way, but in a way that was warm and genuine. He was kind and smart, and he treated Arthur like he would anyone else, teasing and all. It was refreshing after the constant fuss and staleness of the palace, and Arthur almost wished he never had to go back at all. It it wasn't for duty, he probably wouldn't.

Matthew retrieved a curry comb and started in on the mare's coat, looking over his shoulder to Arthur. "Are you excited, then?"

"Hmm?" Arthur blinked himself out of his daze.

"About the Council. Meeting everyone, getting to sit in, all that?"

"I suppose so. That is, it's a little intimidating, though. The Queens- they scare me."

"Why?"

"Well, they're the ones I'll have to deal with the most in the future and what if they don't..."

"What?"

"What if they don't... what if they don't _like_ me?" Arthur crossed his arms over his middle again and looked at his shoes.

Matthew was quiet for a little while. "I don't think you need to worry about that. You're quite likeable."

"You're biased."

"Heh, maybe."

Arthur let his friend work in silence, the only sounds being the soft swooshes of the brushes and the mare's occasional snorts. Matthew continued until the mare's coat was gleaming, standing back to inspect her from every angle.

"What a beautiful girl, eh?" He gave a few more reassuring pats and then untied her to return her to her stall.

Arthur stayed quiet still, a new worry beginning to have wormed it's way into his mind. The change did not go unnoticed by Matthew when he returned from locking up he stall and gathering his supplies.

"Is something wrong?"

"Just... thinking about the Queens, and then Alfred, I couldn't help but wonder... It's just that Alfred is going to be King in almost no time at all and Yao _still _hasn't told him. About us, I mean, about the betrothal and all that."

Matthew gave him a sympathetic nod and they began to walk toward the storage room. "Yeah, I was wondering about that, too. You don't think he'll announce it at the Council, do you?"

Arthur balked. "In front of everyone? Ugh, I hope not! I'm afraid how Alfred will react. I didn't... well, I didn't take it too well when I found out and I was only just younger than he is. I'd rather it be in private."

"So why don't you just tell him yourself?"

"No! I couldn't do that. What if he reacts badly? He'll hate me."

"Arthur, I don't know what dream world you've been living in, but there's no way Alfred is going to hate you. First of all, it wasn't like you _chose_ to be Queen, and secondly, Alfred is so in love with you, it's almost embarrassing."

Snorting, Arthur bumped into Matthew jovially. "He doesn't care for me that much. He just likes attention. But I am seriously worried if he takes the engagement badly. It's taken me so long to come to terms with it, and still I don't _want_ to be Queen. Well, I do. The position, I mean, I think I could actually be good at it. It's just the marriage bit. It's awkward."

"Y'know, I've considered just telling him myself, like a dozen times."

"You have not!"

"No. Really. He used to come down here all the time, when you were busy or something, and he'd stay for hours. It was all "Arthur this... Arthur that" and I just wanted to tell him. I know you don't see it, but he really does care about you."

"No more than you do. He's just a friend."

Matthew opened up the storage room and then turned to face Arthur. "But your his _only_ friend. You mean the world to him. So, I don't think you being Queen is going be a problem. He'll be shocked, but I know he won't hate you." He walked inside and began putting his supplies away and tidying up. Arthur moved to sit on a small stool inside, pleased when the strange-eared orange and white cat appeared from behind a bin and started winding its way between his legs.

"But you're his friend, as well."

Matthew made a face and found another stool to sit on. "It's not the same. Arthur, he could just talk about you all day long. He's totally smitten. And he's terrified that you're going to leave the palace. He told me."

"He's a child! He can't even think like that yet. You're exaggerating." Arthur pulled the cat up onto his lap, receiving a few love bites to the tips of his fingers before the beast settled itself grumpily.

"A child! Arthur, he's almost fourteen years old! Don't you remember how you felt at fourteen?"

"No."

"Of course not, grandpa. You act like such an old man sometimes, Arthur."

"I do not! And anyway, I don't care if Alfred "loves" me, as you say. I just don't want him to hate me. If I have to spend the rest of my life working with him, then I don't need any more stress."

Matthew sighed and scratched the back of his neck . "You have to stop treating him like a child. He really will hate you if you keep that up."

"Then what do you want me to do?"

"Take him seriously! Take what he feels seriously!" He shook his head and held his hands up. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be saying all this. He's just... Alfred just wants you to feel about him the way he does about you."

Arthur pursed his lips and looked away. "And how's that, exactly?"

"Excited! Happy! I don't know, maybe it's more than that, but he just wants _you_."

"You aren't making any sense, Matthew. And anyway, I don't want to talk about Alfred anymore. I have to share everything with him as it is, so our time shouldn't be about him." Arthur gave a self-satisfied nod, and stroked the cat as it purred begrudgingly in his lap.

Matthew laughed. "Who's exaggerating now? You don't share everything with him!"

"Yes, I do! Mealtimes, and study and recreation, and any time I have to myself and suddenly he's there!" Arthur looked up, feeling his face get a little hot. "You're the one thing I don't have to share with him, not really, and I don't want to ruin it. I mean, for heaven's sake, I've even had to share a bed with him when the little brat couldn't get to sleep!"

Arching an eyebrow, Matthew grinned mischeviously. "Oh, have you really?"

"Don't be crude, it wasn't like that! That was years ago. I was just trying to make a point."

"Well, point made, your Highness. Alfred follows you around and worships you and sometimes you sleep with him. Got it."

Glowering, Arthur clucked his tongue. "I liked you better when you barely talked."

Matthew laughed and finally agreed to change the subject. They talked a while longer, Arthur filling him in on all the interesting workings of the Kingdoms he had learned that day, and Matthew going on about his excitement over a visit from a farrier from the city.

"He said he'd be willing to teach me! I don't know it's just exciting. If I learn everything, and I impress him, it'll be another set of skills I'll have and maybe I won't have to live here forever."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "Do you want to leave the palace?"

Matthew shrugged, chewing his bottom lip. "Well, yes and no. I mean, I wouldn't have anywhere to go, but that also means I could go wherever I wanted. And if I had skills that somebody could pay me for, then maybe I really could make it on my own. And I think... I think... well, maybe I could try to mind my mom. I wouldn't know where to start, but if I had a little money and was on my own, then I could at least find out what happened to her, y'know?"

"Oh." Arthur honestly hadn't been expecting that. Matthew almost never talked about his mother after he had shown Arthur what he had of her belongings. It was almost as if, in getting to know Matthew and feeling closer to him, he had forgotten completely that they weren't the same; Matthew didn't have a family or the privileges that Arthur did, and while this should have been an obvious constant, Arthur was too busy enjoying himself and his company to even think of what it would be like to be so alone. "Well, have you tried talking to Yao? Maybe he would know a way to start looking for her?"

Matthew scoffed. "No way. I'm not going to ask him for help. Sure, he sort of saved me when I was a kid, but now... I don't think he'd help. What has he done for me lately? He's just... left me here."

Arthur blinked and his mouth hung open a little. He'd only ever heard Matthew be happy and grateful. This pent up bitterness was shocking and a little terrifying. Mind whirring as he tried to think of how he could comfort his friend, Arthur dumped the cat off of his lap and reached out to put a hand on Matthew's knee.

"Matthew, listen to me." He waited until Matthew met his gaze. "When I'm crowned, I will do everything, and I mean _everything_, in my power to help you find her. I don't care what the cost or what I have to do, I will help you. I swear it."

Matthew let out a huge breath and put his hand on Arthur's. "Thank you. I know I can't ask you to do that, really, but thank you."

Arthur squeezed fondly against Matthew's leg, leaning even closer, but then Matthew was brushing him off and pulling away once again. Trying not to let the rejection affect him, Arthur set to straightening his clothes murmuring, "It's the least I can do."

The cat howled sadly at being bumped from its human throne and Matthew smiled, reaching up to untie the leather cord keeping his hair in place. He dangled it in front of the cat, who took a few bats at it, then seemed to feel embarrassed and started grooming itself vainly.

"Hahaha, you priss. Where's your friend, huh?" Matthew wound the cord up and slid it into his trouser pockets, fluffing his hair out more comfortably and grinning at Arthur. "What are you giving me that look for?"

Jumping a little since he had been caught staring, Arthur crossed his legs self-consciously. "What? Nothing. It's stupid."

"Aww go on, tell me."

"No, you'll make fun of me."

"I won't! I promise!"

Arthur knew very well he would, but acquiesced. "Don't laugh, but I honestly wish I had hair like yours."

The corners of Matthew's mouth twitched upward violently, but he contained himself. "And why's that?"

"Ugh! I don't know! It's just... nice looking. Better than mine anyway." Arthur flapped his hands dismissively and pouted.

"It is not." Matthew laughed and tucked his hair behind his ears, face looking a little redder.

"Well, that's your opinion."

Matthew shook his head. "No. My opinion is that you are perfect just the way you are. Stop worrying so much."

Arthur ducked his head down bashfully. "Do you really think so?"

"Sure. And you know who else thinks so?"

"Who?"

"Alfred."

"That's it. I'm leaving."

* * *

><p>"But this is haaaaaaaaaaaaaaard." Alfred whined and thunked his head into the piano keys before him.<p>

"You've played things much more difficult than this and done just fine! Just give it another go."

Alfred rolled his forehead around and then smacked it down repeatedly, the piano making terribly discordant crashes. "But this is different! I have to listen to your part as well!"

Arthur smirked. "Yes, it is so very difficult for you to listen to me. I know. And will you stop that! You're going to break the piano. Or your head. Yao will be very put out if he has to get a new piano."

"And what about my head!" Alfred sat up straight and rubbed his forehead, a large red mark spreading down to his eyebrows.

"Just try it again. I won't play this time."

Alfred took a deep breath and glared at the sheet music. After a few more moments of study, he lifted his hands gently from his lap and began to play. Arthur closed his eyes and listened, imagining where the musical line of his violin would go above the piano. It all seemed correct until about midway through the second page, and Alfred groaned and whacked his head down again.

Flicking the back of his neck so he would sit up, Arthur made him scoot over on the bench. "Alright. Play it again, starting two measure before. Let me see what you are doing." While he couldn't play with both hands simultaneously, Arthur had managed to pick up enough piano knowledge to plunk out little bits here and there. He studied the rising and falling black dots as Alfred attempted to play them, faltering over the same spot. A few more times through, and much slower, and Arthur nodded.

"I see what your problem is. Your fingering on your right hand is off. You can't make it in time doing it the way you are now. Try this instead." He reached in front of Alfred and slowly showed him what he meant.

"Oh! Do it again." Arthur obliged several more times and Alfred took to practising the motion simultaneously an octave higher.

"Now try it on your own. Both hands." Arthur found there really wasn't a place to put his arm, so he merely wrapped it behind Alfred, resting it on his opposite shoulder.

Alfred was a little slower to start than the times before, but he played the passage through perfectly, breathing a sigh of relief when he was done. Arthur's arm was beginning to tire, and he unconsciously moved his hand lower until it was resting somewhere near he the small of Alfred's back. "See! You've done it."

A strangled sound resonated in Alfred's throat and he shivered strangely, looking up at Arthur in a way he couldn't describe, but didn't particularly care for. Removing himself from the bench, he returned to his violin.

"It's not so bad, now, is it? All you've got to do is stick your fingers in the right place and it all turns out fine." Arthur prepared to play once again, but stopped and lowered his bow when he heard Alfred sniggering behind his back.

"What's so funny, then?" Arthur whirled around to find Alfred fidgeting wildly with suppressed laughter and quite pink up to his ears. "What did I say?... oh!" Realizing what had Alfred so worked up, Arthur rolled his eyes in disgust and rapped him lightly on the head with his bow. "Don't be crude, honestly, Alfred."

"Well, you said it, not me."

Arthur was about to let it go and get back to practising, but he couldn't stop himself as he turned back around.

"Where did you learn such vile things anyway?"

Alfred stuck out his tongue. "From your filthy books."

"Liar, there's nothing like that in those. You forget I've read them."

"So much the bindings are going to give out."

"Oh, ha ha. But I'm serious. I know what kind of talk Yao gives on that sort of thing. It's nothing like that. Who are talking to that you shouldn't be?"

Crossing his legs and leaning his hands back on the bench Alfred shot Arthur a haughty look. "No one. I'm old enough to talk to whomever I please, about _whatever_ I please, aren't I?"

"No you're not. You're eleven."

"I'm nearly fourteen!

Arthur laughed, setting his violin aside once again as he sat down next to Alfred and ruffled his hair. "I'm teasing you. I know you're old enough for... _those_ kinds of things, but I don't understand where you're getting them from."

Another annoying smirk, and Alfred was leaning up into his face. "Well, where did _you _learn it from, then, huh?"

Freezing because of the sudden lack of personal space, Arthur didn't say anything, much preferring to let his heart race as his eyes flicked up and down between Alfred's mouth and eyes. As the seconds ticked by, Arthur kept wishing that he would pull away or come closer or just _do anything_, anything at all that would release the tension. But no, Alfred seemed more than content to stay much too close to him and smile with an absurd amount of bravado. Smiling didn't even cover it. He was smouldering. Or at least attempting to, and Arthur's stomach lurched at the thought of being smouldered at, mind racing with all the things Matthew had said the week before. Just as he was about to convert all his nervous energy into lifting his arms to push Alfred clear off the bench, Alfred pulled away and stood, choosing to sit on the love-seat against the wall, instead. Even at a distance, Arthur felt like Alfred was trying to do something to him and he blinked rapidly, feeling self-conscious.

"Anyway, Matthew's told me all sorts of things. Has he told you?"

When he had cleared his throat enough times to speak, Arthur's voice was good deal higher than he would have preferred it to be whilst trying to remain calm. "Matthew?"

"Yes, Matthew. Y'know... my brother. He tells me all about it."

"About what, precisely?"

A far too pleased and devious expression crossed Alfred's face and he cocked his head to side in a way that made Arthur feel he was being mocked. "Sex, of course! He's done it, and he told me all about it."

It took Arthur a moment to process what he had just heard. When it finally registered in his brain, his mouth hung open and he felt a sudden rush of dizziness and something that felt uncomfortably close to anger. Overcome with the desire to punch something, he instead took to pacing, hands trembling as he spoke.

"Oh! Has he really?"

"Yep, only with a girl, but still. Didn't he tell you?" If Alfred could see how upset Arthur was, he either didn't know, didn't care, or was enjoying it.

"No. He didn't." Arthur tossed his violin in it's case, seeing Alfred jump as he slammed it shut. "We're done for the day."

"But- but we were just getting good!"

"Go Alfred, I have a headache."

"I'm sorry if I made you mad, I just thought-"

"I'm not mad, just SHUT UP!" Arthur wiped a hand across his face as he realized he was shouting, and immediately felt guilty when he saw Alfred sinking back into the sofa in fear. "I just... I need to lie down. My head. It feels like it's going to... it's just a headache, I'm sorry. I have to go."

He didn't bother to wait for Alfred's response as he all but ran from the room, leaving his violin behind, and hellbent on getting some answers.

* * *

><p>Arthur had never been down on the servant's floor by himself before. He'd only visited Matthew there twice after the first time, and even then, Matthew had been there to guide him through the winding halls and to the right door. Now, with something rather close to rage guiding him, Arthur was becoming more and more lost. A good twenty minutes of huffing down hallways, and giving nasty glares to the few servants he did pass (he didn't want them asking questions), and finally he was at the dead end with the right door. Not bothering to compose himself or take the hour into consideration, he banged his fist on the door three times.<p>

A man answered the door groggily, scratching his stomach through his shirt. Arthur could see the light inside the room was dimmed considerably, but he didn't care. He needed to see Mattthew.

"Is Matthew in?"

"Wha- yeah."

"Good. I need to see him."

"Now?"

"Yes, now!" Arthur stomped his foot and balled his fists up.

"Arthur? Is that you?" Matthew's head peered around the side of the door. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk." He shot the other man a withering look. "Would you excuse us, please, this is private." The man looked like he might try to talk back, but then just shrugged his shoulders and bowed slightly before brushing past Arthur and wandering elsewhere. Making sure no one else was in the room, Arthur shoved his way inside and closed the door.

"Arthur, are you okay? What happened?"

"I'll tell you what happened! I think Alfred may have tried to kiss me tonight!"

Matthew cowered away from Arthur and stumbled over to sit on his bed, panic obvious in his face.

"Okay, so-"

"No let me finish. He seems to have all these idea floating around his head and, if he's telling the truth, you've been putting them there!"

"Thoughts? What are you-"

"Is it true you've been with a woman? Is it?" Matthew's eyes widened and Arthur just knew it was the truth, but he couldn't stop himself from shouting. "IS IT?"

The colour drained from Matthew's face, and he teetered slightly on the bed, and for the briefest moment, Arthur thought he might faint. But then Matthew was shifting over and gesturing for Arthur to sit down as well. Arthur didn't move.

"Arthur, please, sit down."

"No."

"I won't talk to you until you sit down. You're scaring me."

"What difference would it make; you don't talk to me anyway, apparently."

Matthew pushed his hair behind his ears and shook his head. "Why are you so upset about this? Alfred just had some questions. What was I supposed to do, lie to him?"

Arthur could feel himself getting very close to tears, but he tried to push forward. "This isn't about Alfred! Not everything is about him! I just... why didn't you tell _me_? I'm your...I'm your... best friend." Hiccuping, now, Arthur rubbed crossly at his eyes. "Aren't I?" The feeling of unworthiness was burning hot in his stomach. It wasn't fair that Matthew had kept something so monumental a secret from him. But he also wished that that was what hurt the most; instead he was drowning in a feeling that was starting to get too close to jealousy. Jealousy of Alfred, and jealousy of a girl he didn't even know.

"What? Arthur, of course you are." Matthew reached out and pulled him to sit on the bed. "Alfred's making it seem like something happened that didn't."

"So you didn't have sex with a girl?"

"Look, I did, but it was a mistake. And then Alfred's always hanging around and he was asking me all this stuff, and I couldn't just lie. Somebody had to tell him. I didn't make it sound glamourous or wonderful, I just told him the truth. That's it."

"And what is the truth, then?" Arthur had managed to stop the tears, but he still felt twisted and mad.

Matthew sighed heavily and looked away. "Don't judge me, I feel stupid enough as it is. The other guys, the stablehands, well... a few of them are just a little older than I am and they all are either newly married or have lovers or something. And they're always bragging and talking filthy and they kept picking on me. It got annoying. It made me feel like there was something wrong with me because I didn't want to go into the city and get drunk and chase after women like they all did. Anyway, there was this girl- "

"Who?" Arthur interrupted, hands clenched in the bedding.

"I don't want to get her in trouble, so I'm not going to say. You don't know her, anyway. But she's been... I don't know, kind of sweet on me for a while now, and I guess I kind of liked her, too. I mean, I didn't really think of her like that, but then with what all the guys were saying, and she kept hinting at all this stuff... it just happened. We both felt terrible afterwards. It wasn't what we wanted, at all. I still like her, I mean, I see her and I wish we could be friends again, but it's hard. I'm not proud of it, if that's the impression Alfred gave you."

Arthur was quiet, the envy in his stomach quelled, but not completely gone. He picked at the blankets, pouting. "So, you regret it, then?"

Matthew nodded sheepishly. "Yeah. I mean, it's not that I regret doing it, it's just that I regret not _feeling_ the way I should have. This is going to sound stupid, but I didn't love her, and she didn't love me, so it was all just... _hollow_."

"That doesn't sound stupid at all."

"You're not still mad, are you?"

Sighing out his nose, Arthur shook his head. "No. And I'm sorry I was mad in the first place. It's not my business, and you didn't do anything wrong in talking to Alfred. I just wish... I just wish you would have told me."

"I know, I'm sorry, I just thought you would judge me for it, if you knew what was happening. I felt so bad about it, I didn't want anyone to know, really."

"Well, no more secrets, alright? None." Arthur patted Matthew on the shoulder.

Matthew smiled and went for a hug instead. "Deal."

* * *

><p>Arthur had a hard time falling asleep that night, tossing and turning in sheets that clung too close as all the thoughts of Matthew and Alfred and the Deck Council floated through his mind.<p>

Matthew wasn't going to keep anymore secrets from him. Good.

The Deck Council was still far enough away that Arthur had time to prepare. Good.

Alfred was beginning to scare him, as was his own lack of sexual experience. Not good.

Frankly, he'd never really thought about sex much, other than as a thing that other people, people in books and people outside of the palace, did. He'd imagined it of course, and he'd taken care of his own base desires when the need arose, but as for ever entering into a functional, physically romantic relationship, Arthur could hardly picture himself. He wanted things of course, and he felt things. He was attracted to an individual, occasionally, or could appreciate that someone was attractive. But there was a great gap between thinking something and actually doing it, and at his age, he was beginning to wonder if his personal gap was too wide.

Feeling worked up again, Arthur reached over to the music box that had been on his night stand since the night he received it. It had become a ritual for Arthur to turn the tiny key and close his eyes as the faerie spun to life, lulled into calmness or into sleep whenever he felt too stressed. It was his treasure, something he kept completely safe and in good condition. Anne wasn't even allowed to move or clean it, and he took its maintenance upon himself and very seriously.

Now, as the lullaby played crisply, Arthur's thoughts calmed and wandered at a slower pace. Perhaps he wasn't as advanced as he should be for a young man his age. If half the gossip he heard at parties and events was true, then it would seem that sex was not an uncommon occurrence for his peers. Arthur was unsure whether to be amused or disgusted by this, especially considering he had never even been kissed. It wasn't as if the opportunity for that kind of thing was likely to present itself, not while he lived in isolation as the betrothed of royalty.

The music faded away, and Arthur reached blindly to turn the key again, not quite relaxed enough to drift off. He was just about to touch the beautiful metal when a memory crashed through his brain and made him freeze.

He had been kissed. Briefly, but kissed all the same. It was with great horror and embarrassment that Arthur remembered his thirteenth birthday and the strange, warm lips on his own just moments after the very same music box had gone silent.

"It doesn't count," Arthur said out loud, flustered and fidgeting in his bed.

"No! It doesn't count!"

Arthur didn't know who was trying to convince, but as he rolled over onto his side, away from his most cherished gift, he had a feeling he'd lost the argument.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading and reviewing. Common-sheep over on tumblr drew some art for Chapter 6 of this story. I will put a link up in my profile, so if you're interested go check it out and give common-sheep some love. **


	10. Chapter 10

"Now, let's review the strengths and importance of each House and I will let you go for the afternoon."

"Again?" Alfred whined, pleased to note that Arthur had sighed in frustration as well.

"We've done this a hundred times over at least, Yao. It's not as if the other monarchs are going to test us on it." Arthur remarked flippantly, and Alfred bit back a smile. He liked it when Arthur talked back; it was fun to see him lose his composure enough to be as feisty as Alfred knew he could be.

Arthur could hardly be blamed for his irritation. Not only had they been cooped up since early morning, reviewing history lessons and noble titles and political affairs, but summer had descended upon the Kingdom of Spades with a vengeance, and was making everyone miserable. The sun would barely be up for two or three hours and the maids would have every window open, and still it would not be enough to cool the palace down. Alfred and Arthur had taken to running around with jackets and waistcoats long forgotten, white shirts partially unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up, barefoot if they thought they could get away with it. Yao didn't try to reprimand them, telling them to enjoy it before the Deck Council started and they had to be dressed in their finest, all the while trying to wipe sweat from his brow and fanning himself with a painted paper fan.

The Jack increased his fanning. "I don't care what you think they will ask you! I won't have my charges embarrassing me. So go on, Arthur you start. House of Diamonds."

Alfred watched as Arthur swallowed thickly in the dry air, Adam's apple bobbing in a way that had him mostly staring at the milky white throat instead of paying attention to what Arthur was half-heartedly reciting.

"Kingdom of Diamonds. Located to the South, inland. Ruled by King Francis, and his Jack, Vash, whose younger sister Lilli will be crowned Queen. She will turn sixteen next spring, but due to a contract created by her brother, she will not legally take the throne nor marry King Francis until she is eighteen years of age. The Kingdom of Diamonds is the largest in terms of land, and is the financial centre of the united Deck. All currency has passed through the banks of their capital at one point. Their greatest strength is wealth, unmatched by the rest of the Kingdoms combined in terms of mineral resources and trade."

"Very good." Yao smiled tiredly, then looked to Alfred. "House of Clubs."

"Ummm... they're to the North, so it's colder there than it is here. It snows more often. Lots of mountains? It looked pretty small on the map, I think. Roderich is the Jack, the Queen is the lady whose name I can never remember..."

"Elizaveta. Honestly, Alfred pay attention," Arthur sniped, trying to undo another button on his collar. Alfred lost his train of thought for a moment, absorbed in Arthur's fumbling fingers and the increase in skin after they succeeded.

"Right! Right. Elizaveta. It's not my fault they have such strange names! And... and King Ivan. He's the one who started the war that Lord Kirkland stopped." Here, Alfred beamed fondly at Arthur, only to be met with a roll of the eyes and Yao slamming his fan on the table.

"Your Highness, we have been through this a million times; The current King Ivan is not the same Ivan that started the Deck War. That was his uncle. In fact, the King Ivan you will be working with opposed his uncle's actions and stood against him. That is why his people chose him as King during the reconstruction. He's a hero in his own right, and you would do well to treat him with caution and respect."

Alfred mentally slapped himself. "Okay, fine. King Ivan the good guy, who is nephew of King Ivan the bad guy. Right. The Kingdom of Clubs... strengths! Right. They have the largest military of the four Houses, and the best weapons. Of course, they couldn't do it without our technology, so really, we're better than them."

"That's not what that means, Alfred. None of the Houses are better than the others."

"Arthur is correct, your Highness. All of the Houses are interconnected. We depend on the support of the Diamonds, and the Clubs depend on us for our technology. And what of the House of Hearts, Arthur?"

"The House of Hearts is the oldest House. Agriculture is their forte; they feed the four Kingdoms, in essence. The have rich history of art and culture, and work to preserve the traditions of all of the Houses. They are ruled by King Ludwig and Queen Kiku, and the Jack, Feliciano."

Yao nodded in satisfaction once again. "Quite right. The House of Hearts is the essence of what keeps us human; connection to the earth and to our past. Their power is not to be taken lightly. And, your Highness, what of your own Kingdom?"

Alfred pushed sweaty fringe away from his forehead, but perked up at the mention of his own lands. "Our Kingdom is nearest the sea. We're explorers and inventors! Our people have invented all sorts of useful things like medicines and new ways of building and travelling. And I'll be King of it all, the year after next."

Everything seemed to stop for a moment. Alfred's skin felt ice cold and his heart started to beat so fast he thought it would fly up his throat and out of his mouth.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, voice petering out to a whisper as a rush of thoughts assaulted him.

"Alfred are you alright?"

Alfred could hear a ringing in his ears and could feel hands on him but then the world went black and he felt like he was falling. The next thing he knew, he was laid out on the sofa in the study, with Arthur peering over him while Yao ran from the room. Arthur was stroking his cheeks gently, then brushing his fingertips along his temple and jawline, calling his name repeatedly with urgency. Alfred didn't want to wake up if it meant that Arthur would stop touching him; his fingers felt cool and soft and Alfred wanted them more places than just his face, and that thought didn't help with the heat at all. But it didn't seem like Alfred could control the fluttering of his eyelashes as he resurfaced into consciousness, and he was looking into Arthur's concerned face.

A smile blossomed on Arthur's lips and Alfred felt so sticky hot he thought he might combust.

"Hello, there."

"Nnngh, what happened?" Alfred tried to sit up, but Arthur pushed him back onto the sofa.

"No, don't. You fainted, I think. You were talking, and then you just fell forward and we couldn't wake you. Yao went for help."

"I fainted?" Alfred's mouth felt like it was full of cotton and dirt and he lolled his tongue against the roof.

Arthur nodded, then smiled again. "Your eyes went terribly crossed."

"Did they really?"

"Mhmm." Arthur was still smiling, even chuckling, but it sounded sad, and he brushed his fingers through Alfred's hair with a fondness that Alfred had never felt before.

"What's wrong, Arthur?"

"You just scared me, that's all." His lips pressed into a thin line and he shifted on his knees.

"How long was I out?"

"Just a few minutes, but still... was it the heat? Or is something else the matter, Alfred?"

Alfred tried to sit up again, but was met with resistance and flopped back down. He rubbed his eyes, batting Arthur's hands away from his hair as he tried to explain. As much as he wanted Arthur's attentions, it was too hot and too hard to think with the distracting sensations.

"I had a thought..."

"A thought made you faint? Heaven help the Kingdom, then!" Arthur was teasing him, he knew, but Alfred didn't laugh or stick his tongue out like he usually would. He gave Arthur a level look, waiting until the smile had slipped from his face before continuing.

"I'm being serious. Arthur, I've just realized that I'm going to be King;."

Arthur made a noise of disbelief. "You've just now realized that? What, did you think we were calling you "your Highness" all these years just to amuse ourselves?"

"No! Listen!" Alfred pushed himself up into a seated position, not caring that it made his vision swim. "I've always _known_, but now I _feel_ it. I'm going to be in charge of an awful lot of people, Arthur. Everyone in the country! I'll have to protect them and help them and care about them. They're going to be mine, and I'm going to be theirs. I have to do it right. Talking about all the Kingdoms made me realize, and it scared me and- "

"You're not scared of anything," Arthur interrupted, sounding rather scared himself, but trying to lighten the mood. "Except ghosts. And not getting dessert."

Alfred still wasn't laughing. "Well, I'm scared of this. Not the kind of scared that makes me want to run, but the kind of scared that makes me want to be better. My people are looking to me to be the best King possible, and I am not going to disappoint them. Do you understand?"

Still kneeling on the floor in front of the sofa, Arthur looked up at him with eyes widened in surprise. The way his gaze kept wandering over his face made Alfred wonder if perhaps this was the first time Arthur was seeing him at all. Shaking, Arthur took both of Alfred's hands in his own and squeezed them gently. He looked up at Alfred once more with a mixture of pride and fear, then kissed the back of his hands before resting his forehead on them.

"You're going to be a wonderful King."

Alfred could have sworn he heard sniffling, but then Yao was coming through the door with a pair of maids and the physician and Arthur was jumping to his feet.

"He's awake? Alfred are you alright?" Yao was in a panic, turning Alfred's face this way and that.

"Yes, he woke up not long after you left. He's been responsive." Arthur cleared his throat and Alfred noted the way he rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes.

"Give him some room, Jack, let the boy breathe!" The physician was a kindly looking older gentleman, black hair and neatly trimmed beard going grey in some spots. Alfred had rarely had cause to see him, but he knew that Yao thought he was a genius and did whatever he advised.

The physician took Alfred's pulse and examined his eyes and did all manner of strange tests, pinching and poking in ways that occasionally tickled. He seemed to be satisfied that Alfred was not in any danger and bade one of the maids to pour a glass of water. He rifled about in his medicine case until he found a vial of powder, and tapped some of it into the glass, stirring it until it had disappeared.

"Drink this."

"What is it?" Alfred sniffed at the drink cautiously, but could detect no odour.

"It'll make you feel better. Just drink it."

Alfred did as he was told, surprised at how sweet the water tasted. He was also surprised at how thirsty he was, chugging down the water so quickly that a little of the liquid dripped down his chin and he was panting when he was done.

The physician laughed, and poured him another glass, this time without the medicine, and took his leave, telling Yao that Alfred should be allowed to rest for the afternoon.

"Come now, your Highness. Let's take you to your rooms." Yao motioned for Arthur to help in getting Alfred on his feet, still wary of his condition.

"No! I want to keep studying! I feel fine, really!"

Yao stopped and looked at Arthur, bewildered. "Did I hear him correctly? Did he just say he _wants _to study?"

"It seems his Highness has undergone a personal revelation during his fainting spell, Jack. He has... matured quite suddenly," Arthur said, a sparkle of amusement ringing in his voice.

Obviously unsure what to make of Arthur's explanation, Yao put his hands on his hips. "Well, whatever has happened, I don't think it wise to strain your Highness more than necessary at the moment. There's been enough study for today."

Upon trying to stand, Alfred found he had gone a bit calf-legged and he had to lean on Arthur for support or else fall back onto the sofa. He wasn't sure if it was from fainting or if the medicine the physician had given him was making him feel so relaxed, but Alfred continued to struggle forward, knees faltering a few times until he got the hang of walking again.

"See, you're in no condition to work!"

"It's my legs that have gone stupid, not my brain, Yao."

"That's debatable," Arthur quipped, tightening his hold on Alfred's waist as he steered him around the corner and towards his rooms.

* * *

><p>It had taken some wheedling, but Alfred had managed to convince Yao that he felt well enough that Arthur could stay and help him study a little more. He did feel fine. Better than fine, in fact. His legs and arms felt almost heavy and his skin was tingly, but his mind was awake and whole effect was actually quite intoxicating. Alfred felt excited and smart, like he was finally understanding everything around him and that made him powerful. And Arthur, he was treating him differently, too; not like a child, not like he was fragile, but like the things he said and thought were important. He still teased him, but not once did he try to ruffle Alfred's hair or pinch him or call him "Alfie".<p>

"Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think it's harder to be King or Queen?" Alfred was laying on his bed, and rolled his head to the side to look at Arthur, who was sitting at his bedside in plush chair. A few books lay open across the mattress, a few more in Arthur's lap. Alfred had been looking at a map of the Kingdom of Clubs, but the lines and colours meant little to him, even with his new resolve to take his position in life more seriously.

Arthur squinted at him, trying to determine if it was a loaded question. "I don't know. What do you think?"

Alfred laced his arms behind his head. "Well, a Queen has to take care of foreign affairs. Like, maintaining all of the treaties between the Kingdoms, and she-

"Or he. Gender doesn't matter."

"I know it doesn't! I was just saying hypothetically, she, he, _whatever_, has to be the spokesperson for the House abroad. A Queen has to have the trust of the entire realm, even the people not directly under his or her control. That seems like an awfully hard job to me. To make _everyone_ like you? I mean, a Queen gets to travel more, and that might be fun, but it seems like it would be worse than being King."

Arthur was quiet for a while, and played with the edges of one of the books in his lap. His eyebrows drew closer together, and Alfred knew that meant he was going to disagree with him.

"Yes, I suppose that does seem like a hard job. But I don't think a King has it any easier. He-"

"Or she!"

"Fine, or she, but we know you're going to be King so we might as well not go to all that trouble." Arthur smiled at him. "A King rules over his House. He creates and executes the laws of the Kingdom. He is the closest to his people, closer even than the Jack. He hears their problems and celebrates their successes. Everyone will look to him. If he doesn't have the love of his people, it doesn't matter what the Queen does or does not do. Foreign support does little good to a King if his own people do not want him on the throne. To win over an entire country? To make a family of a million individual people? That seems like the harder job to me."

Alfred hadn't thought of it that way. There would be so many things Alfred would have to take care of, from the small, every day troubles of individual citizens, to matters that would encompass the growth of the entire Kingdom.

"I guess neither job seems very easy, does it?"

"And that's why it takes a both a King and Queen to keep things in order. And a Jack, to act as secretary and advisor. It's a team effort, really, so perhaps no role is harder than the other; they all have to work together and depend on one another."

"And the Houses have to do the same, don't they? We all have to work together, or it falls apart."

Arthur nodded. "It falls apart."

"Shit."

Arthur tried to give Alfred a disapproving glare for his language, but then his mouth twitched and neither of them could stop laughing. Alfred was wiping tears from his eyes and clutching his belly, aching with happiness. He had never seen Arthur laugh so hard in his life, finding him leaning over Alfred's bed with his head buried in his arms, shoulders shaking, soundless in his hysterics. A rush of affection exploded in Alfred to see him so carefree and he sat up and put a hand on Arthur's twitching head, ruffling _his_ hair for once instead of the other way around.

"Oh, shit indeed." Arthur coughed out tearily, as he looked up. "We're doomed! One little curse word and our beloved King is in a fit of giggles. However will he manage a Kingdom?"

"I'm not King yet! Besides, I'm sure you'll be there to wash my mouth out with soap and set me straight," Alfred teased.

"Yes, I probably will. Now let's clean this up. I don't know about you, but I've had enough of Kingdoms and Houses for today." Arthur began gathering up the books while Alfred folded a few maps and tied them closed, piling everything up on his bedside table.

There was one thing still bothering him.

"Arthur?"

"What is it?"

"When do you think Yao and the Council will choose a Queen for me? Well, for the Kingdom, I mean, but I have to marry-"

"No, I understand!" Arthur cut him off, and busied himself with stacking the books on the table and moving his chair back to its proper place. "They'll choose when they think they need to. There's no sense worrying about a Queen now. Like you said, you're not King yet, so why worry about it?"

"Because I want to know! I wish I could ask Yao why they haven't chosen yet. All the other Queens seem to be chosen so young, but I haven't heard anything. Have you?"

"Don't go asking Yao anything! If he wanted you to know, he'd tell you. These things are complicated, Alfred. There's a lot at stake when choosing the Queen _or_ the King and the timing of such announcements is just as important."

"But what if they don't choose until after I'm crowned? I'd have to get married right away! I don't want to marry someone I hardly know!"

Arthur was getting uncomfortable; Alfred could tell. He was plucking at his clothes and kept trying to make his hair lie flat, and he was blinking too much. "Why would it matter how long you know them? Marriage is just a formality."

"But I don't want it to be!" Alfred cried, and shifted to sit on his knees.

"What?" Arthur stopped his frenetic self-adjustments and gawked at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Alfred growled to himself and flopped on his side melodramatically. "Never mind. You'll think it's stupid."

"No, I won't. I promise. Tell me."

Sitting upright again, Alfred balled his fists into the bedding and stared resolutely into his lap. "I just don't want to get married to someone I don't love, okay? I know that sounds girly and dumb, but that's how I feel about it. If Yao doesn't tell me who it is soon, then how am I supposed to fall in love?"

Arthur didn't answer him right away, and Alfred was afraid that he would be laughing. He wouldn't be able to bear it if Arthur made fun of him now, not about something so important to him. There were very few things in life that Alfred truly wanted for himself that he couldn't have by grace of his position; perhaps it was naïve to think so, but love had to be the most noble thing to ask for. In his heart of hearts, Alfred knew what he truly wanted was for Arthur to love him, but that didn't seem like a viable option, not for a King, not unless he wanted to repeat his father's mistakes. That was something Alfred refused to do. The best he could hope for was a chance to learn to love his Queen and that Arthur wouldn't leave the palace for a long time. It wouldn't be the same, but duty required sacrifice.

Lost in his thoughts, Alfred jumped when he felt the bed sink down with Arthur's weight as he sat next to him.

"What if you can't love the Queen?"

"I will."

"You can't know that."

"I'll make myself love him or her. I won't get married otherwise."

"But you can't do that! You can't just decide to love someone, Alfred!" Arthur hands were fisted in his lap, his knees draw together almost defensively, shaking from the effort of being clenched.

"Can't you? Shouldn't that be the easiest thing in the world? To just decide to love?" A surge of pride welled in Alfred's chest and he spoke with conviction. "That's going to be my job, Arthur. That's all a King _does_. You said you thought it would be hard because a King has to love and be loved, but I think that that is what makes it easy. That's what makes it good."

Arthur didn't say anything, but his hands unclenched.

"I know you think it's silly-"

"I don't." Standing again, Arthur looked down at him. "I don't think it's silly. I think that is the most wonderful thing you can hope for, Alfred, I truly do. And I understand why you feel that way, but I can't talk about this anymore. I can't. People, normal people, get to choose their fates and their loves and their entire _fucking lives._" Alfred flinched, shocked by the sudden anger in Arthur's voice and the desperate look in his eyes. Arthur bore down on him, a finger pointing in his face menacingly. "We don't. Privilege destroys choice, Alfred. You know that. Maybe you think you can switch your heart on and off and love whomever you please just because you decide to, but you're marrying a person, not a wish. You can't command someone's love. It'll be a very hollow life if you try." Something in Arthur's eyes shut down and his voice lost passion. "Besides, some people just aren't lovable. All the good intentions in the world won't make a person something they are not. Don't set yourself up for disappointment by idealizing, Alfred, please."

Alfred didn't understand where all of the hurt in Arthur's voice was coming from. He only knew he wanted to make it better. He reached out to catch Arthur by the wrist, but the other pulled away and made to leave the room.

"No, wait! You're not going to leave, are you?"

Arthur paused, hand on the doorknob, and rested his forehead against the wood.

"Do you mean now, or in general?"

"Both."

Arthur sighed and opened the door halfway. "No, I think I'll be hanging about and washing your mouth out with soap for a while yet." He looked over his shoulder and turned to leave once again.

"You're wrong, you know." Alfred scrambled to the other side of the bed, standing on his knees like before so that he towered over Arthur. "About what you said, about some people not being lovable? You're wrong. I know you think that, you think that about yourself. That's what you meant isn't it? Well, it isn't true. Maybe I don't know anything about love, but I know about you and you're wrong."

A tense stillness blanketed the room, and for a moment Alfred thought that he had said too much. Then he realized that he didn't care. He should have said more. He should have told Arthur outright that he loved him and been done with it, never mind the consequences or his Kingdom. He wasn't King yet, and even if he were, he doubted very much that he would feel anything but love for Arthur in this moment.

Just as he was about to open his mouth and say so, Arthur lifted his head and gave him one last, heart shattering look.

"I can't talk about this anymore."

And then he walked through the door, leaving Alfred alone with his wishes and no answers.

* * *

><p>With only two days until the Deck Council arrived, Arthur couldn't afford to be on the outs with Alfred. He'd overreacted. Alfred had been spouting nonsense about love and duty and all Arthur had heard was that his freedom was being taken away. It was actually sweet, in a way, that Alfred was so set on loving the person he married; the only problem was that Arthur wasn't sure he would still hold that philosophy once he knew the truth about his future Queen.<p>

Arthur had apologised after dinner, and he'd never seen Alfred look so relieved. Maybe Matthew was right, and Alfred did care about him more than he realised; there was something in that that both horrified and intrigued Arthur. He'd enjoyed Alfred's devotion as a child, when it had meant that he had some modicum of control over his actions, but as something close to a man, it was a different game entirely- one Arthur was still learning to play.

It seemed that more things than feelings and voices and bodies had begun to change, as well. Arthur wasn't sure how comfortable he was with the idea of a serious and responsible Alfred. There was something almost intoxicating about the way Alfred was devoting himself to preparations and studies; he was acting like an adult, and it was with some reluctance that Arthur conceded to himself just how much he had been ignoring the fact that Alfred was no longer a child. There was little left to do but wait until the coronation was upon them, and a wedding soon after.

It was just a formality, regardless of what Alfred thought.

And Arthur had bigger, or at least impending, concerns. Yao had abandoned them for last minute preparations, leaving the boys with little to do except practice their music and look over the pages and pages of the itinerary for the Council. Arthur was peeved to see that there were large banks of time devoted to pleasure and entertainment; he understood that, since the gathering was a once-a-year affair, it had to grand and celebratory, but as antisocial and self-conscious as he was, he wished that it would be boiled down to a simple week long conference. Instead, there were several dances and banquets to be held, hunts and tennis matches and all manner of frivolous pleasures. Some days' schedules were arranged more for diversion than diplomatic dealings. All told, the courts of the four Houses would be residing in the Spades Palace for six weeks, concluding the Council on Alfred's birthday. Arthur was already dreading having to spend so much time with the same group of people, never mind that he would have to do it every year for the rest of his life, and go on shorter visits in-between.

The morning of the Council's arrival, Arthur could barely keep his breakfast down. He sipped at his tea, but so much as mouthful of toast made his stomach turn in nervousness. Anticipation seemed to have the opposite effect on Alfred, who was so worked up that he was eating everything in sight. Alfred's skin seemed to have broken out overnight, and Arthur did not envy him the painful looking red bumps swelling on his cheeks and forehead.

As soon as they had finished their meal, they were whisked back to their rooms for baths and dressing. Anne had filled the bathtub with fragrant bubbles and while Arthur might have found this relaxing under normal circumstances, he found little pleasure in the hot, silky water and wondered if he could drown himself instead. He sunk down and let the bubbles cover his head, but it was too hard to stay still and drown himself properly and at any rate, Arthur thought with a smile, Alfred would be put out if he died.

Wrapped in a thick robe, Arthur had to endure the shame of Anne's attentions as she scrubbed and trimmed his fingernails, rubbing a clear oil over his hands to make them soft and his nails shine. He felt like he was show dog being readied for competition, and tried not to glower as Anne daubed something sticky onto his hair and combed it through. The snick of the comb and the way the tines ran over his scalp was almost soothing, and Arthur could have drifted off in the steamy warmth of the bath chamber, happy to be petted, but his hammering heart and tense shoulders prevented true bliss.

Anne held a mirror up for him to see, and gave him light squeeze. "See? Such a handsome face. You'll have all the ladies of the Council swooning. Some of the men, too, I imagine." Arthur blushed at that, but he had to admit he was impressed that Anne had tamed his hair. It was slicked back, but left a little wild on the top, so he looked clean and courtly, but still himself and not foppish. His increase in self-esteem was short lived however as Anne stroked his cheek and cooed, "And so baby smooth, you don't even need a shave!", placing a fond, but wet kiss on the pale skin.

Dressed in a new outfit, there was little left to do but sit in one of the parlours with Alfred and wait. Yao was still running around in a panic, flitting in and out to see if the boys needed anything or if they were misbehaving. Arthur wished he could undo his ribbon tie and collar, the threatening prickles of impending perspiration began to tingle on the back of his neck.

"Your hair looks nice," Alfred said, then spluttered. "Not that it looks bad normally, I just meant it's different today."

"Anne did it," Arthur replied, smoothing a strand of hair over his ear self-consciously, but oddly pleased that Alfred had noticed.

"I hate being dressed up."

"Well, get used to it. You'll have to spend the rest of your life done up."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "I'll just pass a law saying everyone can wear whatever they want. Or better yet that everyone has to go around _naked_!" He waggled his eyebrows wickedly and Arthur laughed.

"You would not. And if you did, I'd be the first of many to leave."

"I'd order you to stay. I'd make that a law, too: that you could never leave and you'd have to be naked all the time."

Arthur squawked, scandalized. "Alfred! You mustn't say things like that!" Feeling his cheeks get hot, Arthur removed himself from the sofa and went to look out the windows overlooking the courtyard instead.

"Why are you so embarrassed? We're both boys. I know what it all looks like anyway. You're such a prude!"

"I'm not a prude, you're just vile. _Normal _people don't talk about things like this, and Yao would have you spanked if he heard you."

Alfred scoffed arrogantly. "I'm too old to be spanked. And you are a prude. I'll make an official decree, and everyone will have to call you Arthur the Prude."

"You're getting a large head over this royalty business, _your Highness_." Arthur turned from the window to tease Alfred some more, but Alfred looked rather uncomfortable and was prodding at the blemishes on his cheeks. "Don't pick. You'll make them worse."

Making a pained face, Alfred ceased his fidgeting. "The doctor is making me put a nasty crème on them. It stings."

"Yes, but it will make the bumps go away, love, so don't fuss with it."

Alfred looked up at him curiously, a smile lighting up his face and what was probably a smart comment forming on his lips. Arthur realized with embarrassment that he'd let the term of endearment slip, and before he could be teased for it he looked out the window again. A lone rider on a black horse was coming through the palace gates and Arthur could see a small coach not far behind on the other side of the palace wall.

"Someone's here."

Nearly pushing him from the window, Alfred peered over his shoulder. The boots he was wearing made him just as tall as Arthur, and he vainly tried to stand up straighter.

"What! Who? That doesn't look like a royal carriage!"

The rider dismounted and handed his horse off to Matthew, who had just come rushing into the courtyard. Arthur squinted to see his face as the rider pulled back his hood, and then both he and Alfred gasped in a mixture of surprise and delight.

"Gilbert!"

Not caring for formality and courtly practice, they tore from the parlour, nearly slipping a few times on the freshly polished floors as they made their way out to the stone steps of the palace.

Arthur waited halfway down the stairs, while Alfred much preferred to fling himself at Gilbert and get a bone-crushing hug. The two had become fast friends in the Joker's infrequent visits; Gilbert was a much better opponent for Alfred when they played at fencing than Arthur was, and he liked to take the young royal out on hunts every now and then.

Gilbert slung an arm around Alfred's shoulders as they walked up the steps, pausing to smile and give a dramatic, sweeping bow as he approached Arthur.

"M'lady, you are looking radiant as always."

"Oh, shut it." Arthur said, but smiled and welcomed Gilbert's far too casual embrace readily. "What are you doing here? Yao didn't mention you would be attending Council."

"I'm not. I'm just here for the party. Figured I'd piss your handler off while I was in the neighbourhood." Gilbert winked, then caught Arthur's questioning look. "I've been visiting Peter. Your mother gave me a few letters for you, by the way."

True to his word, Gilbert had made steady visits to the Kirkland manor to watch over the growth of Arthur's brother. According to the letters Arthur had received from his mother, Peter, now five years old, had taken to calling him "Uncle Gilbert" and returned his every adoration. If his parents found it odd, they didn't say so, instead seeming grateful that someone of such renown was taking an interest in their otherwise titleless fifth-born. There was talk of Peter someday being taken on as a member of the Joker's household, a prospect that even Arthur's father found favourable for his son. Gilbert may have been eccentric, but he was a rich man with influence, and his favour was nothing to take lightly.

The trio walked happily into the grand foyer, Alfred chatting away excitedly about everything he had learned about the Council members until a fuming Yao descended upon them.

"As honoured as I am to have you as a guest of the Palace, Joker, do you not think it would have been courteous to inform me you were coming, especially since you _were not invited_?" He crossed his arms and scowled, the pulse in his temper becoming apparent.

"Relax, Yao. I'm not here to cause any trouble, I just wanted to see everyone. It's been a while. I didn't bring an entourage, just my horse and a trunk or two."

"Yes, but where am I supposed to put you! We don't have room!"

"Just stick me in the stables then!"

"I might have to!" Yao screeched, then took a breath as he calmed himself. "I apologise. Of course you are welcome, I am just... stressed. You know how these things go. Let me talk to my staff and see what I can do. I'm sure we can adjust the rooming arrangements to accommodate you, Joker."

Alfred grinned and cleared his throat. "He can have my room. I'll just share with Arthur."

Gilbert snickered and Arthur shot Alfred a warning look, but Yao just sighed and rubbed his temple. "You'll do no such thing. Now, is there anything I can get you?"

"Water would be nice. Or beer."

Yao quirked an eyebrow and the ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Water it is, then. I'm sure you would like to catch up with Arthur and his Highness. I'll leave you to it." With a flurry of robes Yao was off again, and the trio made their way into the parlour.

"Good to see he still has the stick lodged firmly up his ass." Gilbert quipped after a maid had brought in a pitcher of water.

Alfred tittered childishly, and even Arthur allowed himself to laugh silently, covering his mouth with his hand.

"Did you see anyone on the road?" Alfred asked.

"About an hour or so back. The Diamonds had stopped their caravan for a little while. It seems the Lady was a bit ill from the motion of the carriage and needed a breath of fresh air."

"Queen Lilli was sick?"

Gilbert grinned slyly. "No, but Francis was." Arthur's face must have betrayed his shock at Gilber's cavalier remark, because the Joker held up his hands in defence. "The King of Diamonds has been a good friend of mine for a long time. I'm allowed to tease the little cupcake."

"Is he really as prissy as everyone says he is?" Alfred inquired, and Arthur reached out to smack his arm chidingly.

"Worse. Francis has always had expensive tastes, and it seems that the life of royalty has brought out his more... flamboyant side. He's a good man, he just likes his pleasures. Nothing wrong with that, I say." Gilbert gave a faux toast with his glass of water.

"And what about Lilli? Everyone says that she's the prettiest girl in the four Kingdoms!" Arthur tried not roll his eyes at Alfred's enthusiasm, especially when he saw that the Joker was looking at him out of the corner of his eye for a reaction.

"She is. Without a doubt. In all my travels, I have never seen a woman more beautiful save for one, but she's a right bitch so it spoils it." Gilbert made mock devil horns with his fingers. "The Queen of Clubs, but you didn't hear it from me. Then again, Lilli can handle a gun better than either of you, so perhaps sweet packages always hold dangerous gifts."

Alfred was far too impressed with this news for Arthur's liking, and he let his mind wander as more talk of the apparently flawless Lilli filled the parlour. Fanning himself half-heartedly with his hand, Arthur wished Yao would reappear and give them something to do, or that a carriage would come rolling into the courtyard and they could be done with all this intolerable waiting.

Gilbert was done with waiting as well, crossing and uncrossing his legs in boredom as the conversation died down. "Do you still have that chess set, Alfred?"

"Yeah."

"Go fetch it. Let's see if you've gotten any better at strategy."

As Alfred departed to retrieve the set, Gilbert moved to sit next to Arthur on the sofa. He lolled his head dramatically to the side and batted his eyes coyly for a while, a nasty smirk on his face.

"What do you want, Gilbert?" It was obvious that the Joker had no desire to play chess, but had wanted Alfred out of the room. Arthur knew that couldn't bode well for him; as much as he like Gilbert, he was still wary of his manic disposition.

"How are you feeling about the Council?"

Arthur tried to maintain a neutral expression as he determined what it was Gilbert was actually asking, but he faltered and looked away. "Terrified."

"I figured as much. Well, can I offer some advice?"

"Please."

"First off, stay away from Francis. I'm serious. He's going to try to butter you up, but you'll only wind up offended and I don't think you want to start off your reign as Queen with a scandal."

"What do you mean? I thought he was your friend?"

"He is, and that's why I know better. Francis is a passionate bastard, and he goes after what he wants. You're his type, so unless you're prepared to engage in a messy affair with another House leader, be polite, but stay away."

Arthur balked and swallowed thickly. "And what is his type, exactly?"

"Breathing." Gilbert let out a shrill laugh, but shook his head seriously. "Different. His type is different, and you'll present enough of a challenge that he'll be dead set on having you."

"He sounds awful."

"He's not, you just have to tell him no or he'll pester you until you give in and then you'll hate yourself."

Arthur pursed his lips and glanced at Gilbert. "This wouldn't be speaking from personal experience, would it?"

Gilbet just grinned and changed the subject. "Now, Queens: Lilli is easy enough to get along with. She's a little sheltered and childish, but she's a sweet girl and I think you'll like her. Just don't piss off Vash, and you've got yourself a good ally. Elizaveta is-"

"A bitch?" Arthur offered dryly.

"Yeah. Well, no, that's just to me. Ruthless is the word I would use. She's beautiful, but she grew up a fighter and she's not above using tricks to get her way. And she always gets her way, believe me. You won't have to work hard to get in her good graces; just make sure you stay there. If she decides not to like you, for whatever reason, it will be an uphill battle trying to win her over again."

Arthur nodded, imagining that any woman willing to put up with Roderich, the Jack of Clubs, as a romantic partner would have to be just as smart and meticulous as the music tutor himself. "And the Queen of Hearts?"

"Ah. He's the odd duck. I've known Kiku for going on ten years now and I still don't have a damn clue what he's thinking half the time. I wouldn't worry too much about that, though. Just be respectful and don't pry too much into his personal life and he'll at least treat you in kind. He's the quintessential diplomat in that whatever agreement you may come to, you'll have no idea who's coming away with the better deal. He could screw you over and make it feel like a favour. But he's too polite for that. Just keep it professional and you'll have no problems."

Overwhelmed by the barrage of information, Arthur took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. What about the Kings?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Pffft. Don't worry about them. Francis is Francis, like I said, and Ludwig will love you because I do. You're a hard worker; that's all that will matter to him. Ivan is just a big teddy bear once you get past the creepy exterior. He grew up in a weird family, so you can't blame him if he's a little socially stunted. Just don't piss him off, because I've seen him do some major damage. And don't let him challenge you to a drinking match. You will wind up broke, and probably with a deadly case of alcohol poisoning. Of course, you already have the King of Spades eating out of your hand, so nothing else really matters, does it?"

Arthur squirmed and shook his head. "I do not. Alfred is just a friendly child."

"No, Alfred is a horny young adult. Don't get all flustered about it, it's true. You're the same, even if you keep it locked down behind that bookish little facade of yours. And he does like you, more than you care to realize, I think."

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Tough. I like watching you sweat, and I'd like to see you happy for a change." Gilbert was smirking, but his tone of voice was so sincere that Arthur did a double take and sunk down into his shoulders a little in sudden shyness. He was just about to ask Gilbert if he honestly did think Alfred cared for him more than in the bounds of friendship when the pest himself came ricocheting through the door, clutching the chess set to his chest and obviously out of breath.

"It took you long enough, boy, now set up a match! I'm feeling lucky!"

Alfred shook his head back and forth so rapidly that Arthur thought he might make himself dizzy. With eyes wide and sparkling with a mixture of fear and excitement, Alfred's face erupted into his signature smile.

"There's no time! They're here!"

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><p><strong>AN: Cue dramatic music! Sorry for the late and lame chapter. Things are going to get interesting, I promise.**

**I also just want to say thank you for all the amazing support I've gotten, both on here and on tumblr. I seriously don't deserve it, but I love you all for it. **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: This is very late and much shorter than I had originally intended. I'll try to make up for it by updating again within the next few days. **

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><p>The clatter of hooves filled the courtyard as the entourage of the House of Diamonds spilled through the palace gates, white, almost pearl-like carriages glistening in the fading afternoon sun. Alfred squinted in an effort to make out the faces of the passengers inside, but everything was a blur of gold and orange. Yao was giving out last minute instructions to both Arthur and him as they stood waiting on the steps of the entryway to greet their guests, words gritted and nearly unintelligible through his plastered on smile. Alfred didn't care what he was saying. He knew he was supposed to bow and let Yao do all the talking until he was introduced, and then the guests would be shown to their rooms by the house staff; he didn't have to impress or engage, he just had to appear stately and collected. Still, the hammering of his heart as excitement built to its boiling point made him wish he could shout and run a lap around the courtyard, or, at the very least, reach over and squeeze Arthur's hand in his own.<p>

Sneaking a glance up at Arthur, he could see that he was having difficulty channelling his nervous energy. Arthur was blinking too much again, and his facial expressions changed rapidly in attitude, making Alfred think he was either having some sort of attack, or was trying them on for size before the Diamonds made their appearance. Arthur decided on something between a smile and a wince, eyelashes still whipping up and down like frantic moth wings.

"You're going to be fine."

"What?" Arthur still looked uneasy as he spared Alfred a quick look.

"I'm right here, so you're going to be fine. Nothing bad is going to happen."

Arthur might have said something sarcastic, but then he winced again and breathed a giant sigh and said, "Thank you."

Finally, the noise of the carriages came to a halt, and Alfred's eyes widened as one of the doors opened, a footmen dressed in the orange and gold livery of the House of Diamonds offering a hand to the passenger inside. A slender, pale arm, decorated with a few glimmering bracelets reached out and a waif of young woman emerged, blinking cheerfully in the light as she inspected her surroundings. She was dressed modestly for travelling, the childish cut of her yellow and white dress making her look younger than she was, and Alfred smiled, knowing that this was Lilli, the future Queen. It was said that her brother, the Jack, was extremely protective of her, even to the point of prohibiting her from wearing certain clothing or attending Council meetings in the past. This was to be her first time sitting in on the Deck Council, and Alfred took comfort in the fact that he wouldn't be the only inexperienced one there.

Vash emerged, looking put out and irritable, then set to straightening Lilli out, giving her a thorough inspection and even retying the ribbon holding her small straw hat in place. She submitted to his nitpicking demurely, seemingly happy to be plucked at and manoeuvred like a living doll. That's what Alfred thought she looked like; she was so slender and poised and perfect looking that if it wasn't for the fact that she breathed and walked and blinked, Alfred would have sworn she wasn't real at all.

Another carriage door opened, and an older man with an absurd amount of rings reflecting on his fingers emerged, steadying himself as he stepped down with a brilliant ivory and gold cane. It was obvious he didn't actually need it to walk, but enjoyed making a show of himself. Alfred knew that that must be King Francis.

As the trio climbed the stairs to the palace door, Alfred realised how similar they all looked. All shining in their silks and linens, all with shoulder length golden hair and expressive aristocratic faces, all wearing some amount of expensive looking jewellery. For as conservatively as Lilli was dressed, there was nothing reserved about the large teardrop diamonds dangling from her ears, and even Vash had a gemstone pin on his jacket. They made a handsome group.

King Francis was at the centre, and he bowed with a practised flourish when he reached the top of the stairs, tucking his cane beneath an arm. Arthur, Yao and Alfred returned the gesture and Yao moved forward to take Francis' hand in his own in a friendly half-embrace.

"It is so wonderful to finally have your esteemed court return to our palace. It has been far too long!" Yao declared jovially, and Alfred thought it must have been the first time in a while he had ever heard Yao sound genuinely excited over something.

Francis nodded and gestured dramatically to his surroundings. "Indeed it has! I do always forget how beautiful this part of the country is." He flashed a charming smile toward Arthur and Alfred. "And who do we have here? Certainly this cannot be the young Alfred I have heard so much about; he is far too grown to be the little child I remember!"

"Ah! Yes, may I present Alfred, heir to the House of Spades, and Arthur Kirkland. Gentleman, this is King Francis, who has so graciously offered to help in financing this year's Deck Council so that you may have the opportunity to attend."

Alfred bowed like he knew he was supposed to, but his curiosity could not be stopped. "Have we met before, sir?"

"You were hardly more than a toddler, so I do not think you would remember. I had only just taken the throne, myself. Many years ago, and so much has happened since then. I do not wish to bring up bad memories, but know that I held the greatest respect for your parents. They are still much missed by those of us whom had the opportunity to serve the country with them."

Alfred didn't know what to say, but he felt a swell of pride in knowing that people still cared about his parents, even after all of the scandal and heartbreak leading up to their deaths. He bowed again and murmured a thank you, but it seemed that Francis had already moved on to Arthur.

A spark of jealousy fired off in Alfred's chest as he watched King Francis take one of Arthur's hands in his own and bow with even greater exaggeration than earlier before kissing it softly. Alfred was sure that Arthur would pull his hand away and protest, but he didn't and was instead staring wide-eyed down at the spot where he had been kissed with intense fascination.

Francis straightened again, chest more puffed out and posture elongated, and Alfred couldn't help but thinking he looked like one of the vain roosters that strutted and squawked in front of the laying hens out by the barn. Alfred immediately decided that Francis was foolish, and he didn't want him strutting and squawking in front of Arthur; he didn't want him near Arthur at all. But Francis still held onto Arthur's hand, covering it with both of his own.

"I met your parents once. Your mother is one of the most handsome ladies I have seen in this Kingdom. I see more of her in you than your father." There was a honey-sweet quality to his voice that made Alfred want to retch, and he hoped Arthur would be perturbed and say something snappish like he usually would. Instead, Arthur flushed and shook his head uncertainly at the roundabout compliment, thanking Francis meekly. Alfred wasn't sure if he was more upset at Francis for being such a flirt, or at Arthur for not soundly stopping it.

Yao cleared his throat, apparently just as uncomfortable from the pair's prolonged eye-contact as Alfred was, and Francis finally dropped Arthur's hand to gesture over his left shoulder at Vash.

"You know my Jack, of course!" He then took Lilli's hand with a flourish, showing her off proudly as if she were some trinket. "And may I introduce Lilli, my future Queen!"

Arthur took her hand and kissed it stoically as Yao had coached them to do in the presence of Queens, but he lacked the grace and confidence that Francis had. Alfred took his turn and Lilli smiled at him. There was a vacant, ethereal quality to her eyes, as if she wasn't quite seeing what everyone else was, or at least, didn't care to be bothered.

"It's my first Council, too. I'm so very excited! Brother says they are boring and I won't like them, but I think it will be fun, don't you?" Lilli's voice was high and childish, and Alfred couldn't tell if it was just how she spoke or if it was an affected speech.

"I'm also looking forward to it!"

"Oh, good! I hope we can all be friends!" she cried, bouncing slightly and clapping her hands gleefully, then she went forward and pecked Alfred on the cheek.

"Lilli!" Vash glared at her disapprovingly and she smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry, brother, I'm just so happy!"

Yao took the moment to interrupt. "And we are so happy you are here. But surely you must be tired! I will have you shown to your rooms. This way, if you please." Sweeping them into the grand foyer, the Diamonds were accosted by house staff, not to be seen again for the rest of the evening. Alfred heard a shout of laughter, and then Gilbert's voice yelling. "Franny, you bastard, get over here!", but then all was quiet once more and he and Arthur were dismissed back to the parlour to wait for the next arrival.

"What do you think of them?" Arthur asked when they were seated back on the sofa and Yao had wandered off again.

"I don't know yet." Alfred admitted, then scooted closer to Arthur. "What do you think?"

Arthur didn't say anything right away, mouth pursed as he tried to gather his thoughts. "Well, I think Lilli is very pretty."

"Yeah, she is. She looks like an angel."

Alfred didn't miss the way Arthur rolled his eyes, but he was surprised at how venomous his voice sounded as he responded.

"An angel? She looks like a child still. There's something dysfunctional about her and her brother. He's far too protective of her. She's a sheltered ninny."

"He's just trying to look out for her! What's wrong with wanting to protect someone you love?"

"Nothing, but he's controlling her. Like how she can't be Queen for two more years? It's sad."

"Well, I think he just wants her to be safe. And I don't think she's a ninny. She seems nice."

Arthur glowered some more, and Alfred crossed his arms over his stomach. "It's Francis who's the creep, anyway."

"What's wrong with Francis?" Arthur barked.

"He's just so full of himself!"

"He takes pride in his position! And he behaves so maturely!"

"Well, yeah, he should! He's an old man compared to everyone else!"

"He is not! You should try to act as kingly as he does." Arthur sneered, and Alfred could feel himself getting sick with anger.

"Well, what about kissing your hand? That didn't seem very appropriate to me!" He stood, facing Arthur with his hands on his hips.

Arthur's face got red all the way up to his ears, but Alfred couldn't tell if it was because he was embarrassed or because he was getting defensive. He stood as well, and now they were shouting at one another from across the room "It's a common greeting! We had to do it to your precious Lilli."

"She's not my precious anything! I just don't like it."

"What do you care who goes about kissing my hand, anyway? And if you want to talk about inappropriate, what about Lilli kissing your cheek, hmm?" Arthur returned haughtily, and Alfred could hear the underlying accusations in his questions.

"Why do care who goes about kissing my cheek!"

Arthur fumbled for a moment, fuming. "I don't!"

"Well, I don't care either!" It was a lie, but Alfred was so angry he wanted Arthur to believe it.

"Good! You shouldn't.

They were quiet, panting and still standing defensively, not breaking eye-contact. Alfred cleared his throat and straightened his clothing.

"Fine. Then I guess it's established that we both don't care."

"Right."

"Right."

Arthur clenched and unclenched his fists a few more times, trying to keep his expression indifferent, but Alfred could see the cracks beginning to reveal the hurt underneath and he wished they hadn't fought. Making a little gasping noise before whirling around, Arthur moved to sit at the window again with his back to Alfred.

"You're impossible," he muttered and Alfred didn't know what to say to that.

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><p>The rest of the afternoon was painful. Other than the arrivals of the remaining monarchs- which now seemed like intrusions rather than introductions- there was nothing to punctuate the foul mood that rested between Alfred and Arthur. There had been only one attempt at speaking, made by Alfred, and that had been utterly rejected. He wasn't quite sure what he had done wrong other than state the obvious truth about Francis, but Arthur was genuinely upset, so he knew there must be something he had missed.<p>

The Clubs arrived last, and it was so late that their greetings were brief and informal, Yao insisting that they be shown to their rooms and given food and drink right away. Socializing, he said, could wait until the following day. Alfred was glad for that, not liking the tall, awkward King of Clubs, nor the way the Queen kept smiling at Arthur and him as if she knew some big secret and was laughing wildly in her head. Elizaveta was stunning, but in a very different way than Lilli. She was not sweet and demure despite her royal veneer of ladylike behaviour, and Alfred was more than a little intimidated by her.

So far, the only normal Council members seemed to be the Hearts, and even their Queen was odd. He had declined the traditional greetings, resolutely avoiding bodily contact with anyone despite what custom dictated. Kiku had given Alfred a sidelong appraising look, never fully making eye-contact, but obviously trying to judge him before he revealed anything about himself. Alfred got the sense that the Queen of Hearts was an extremely private person, and even though he knew he shouldn't, he felt the urge to crack the stoic exterior and learn more about his past and personality. As the only male Queen on the Council, he must have an interesting story or two.

As he and Arthur walked silently toward their own rooms, dismissed by Yao with the warning to rest in preparation for the next day, Alfred wanted nothing more than to reach out and take Arthur's hand in his own. Where he had been excited and curious earlier, now he was only feeling depressed at the prospect of being on the outs with Arthur yet again. He wanted the physical comfort that had been denied him for years by propriety and duty, but he wasn't willing to forgo his pride and apologise when he didn't think he was in the wrong. It wasn't his fault Arthur had overreacted. He almost broke down and said goodnight when he reached his door, but the words stuck in his throat as Arthur didn't even pause, never breaking his stride, head held high.

Alfred spent the better part of an hour rolling around in his sheets, feeling too hot to sleep, but needing the reassuring feeling of the fabric around him in order to relax. He replayed the moment Francis' lips touched Arthur's hand over and over again, making himself more and more jealous with each remembering until his brain made the leap to imagining far worse things happening. Fists twisting his sheets as he stared crossly at the ceiling, he felt waves of nausea at the thought of someone else kissing Arthur's cheek and his throat and the little hollow above his collarbone, a place Alfred had only ever seen once when Arthur had scratched at his shoulder through his partially undone shirt. Still, one tiny glimpse was enough to make Alfred think of that place as a tiny heaven, somewhere he desperately needed to go but that would ultimately only be a checkpoint on the way to better, more exotic territory. Almost without thinking, Alfred unclenched one of his hands from the bedding and let it wander its way down his stomach, the pad of his thumb pressing roughly along the light trail of blonde hairs beneath his navel.

It was too easy to forget that Arthur didn't love him when he got like this. Flashes of skin he had never even seen except for on himself played on a continuous loop in Alfred's mind, the words he wished Arthur would whisper hotly into his ear sounded loud and real. The faster his hand moved, the farther in denial he ventured, to the point that the desperate whines coming out of his mouth weren't his own, but the cries of someone who wasn't even there. If he tried hard enough, he could even feel the phantom touches of his fantasy, but as soon as it was all over, as soon as there was a sudden, shuddering wetness in his hand and on his twitching stomach, reality washed over him heartlessly.

Alfred was alone, sweating and exhausted, with nothing but the dripping wish of his own spend in his hand to show for it. He wiped himself angrily on the sheets then kicked them aside, too hot and disenchanted to bother with the pretence of sleep. This was not the first long night he would lay awake and think about things he could not have, craving a touch he had never truly felt, nor did he think it would be his last.

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><p>Arthur was grateful that the day would start late, lounging in his bed for almost two hours before getting up and dressing. Anne brought him a tray of food, then left him to his own devices until the Council gathered. Unsure whether or not he was looking forward to it, Arthur ate slowly, then spent some time embroidering, trying not to think too much about the previous day's events.<p>

He was still less than pleased with Alfred, thought he couldn't quite figure out why. It wasn't what he had said about Francis; frankly, Arthur had found the King's behaviour to be a bit much, even if it was flattering. He didn't think he was as cunning as Gilbert had made him out to be, though, and he could see little threat in his hollow flirtations. Lilli, on the other hand, he had decided he did not like. She wasn't a bad sort, but Arthur was put off by her innocent demeanour, which he was sure was just an act to garner attention. Alfred could fawn all he liked, but Arthur was not impressed.

The other Queens were nice enough; Arthur admired Kiku's reserved nature, and he thought Elizaveta was a strong and captivating woman. He wouldn't mind spending more time with them, as his duty would have him do. He just hoped they would be understanding of the delicate nature of his position.

Finally, evening approached, and he was forced to bathe and transform himself into someone attractive and charming enough to be the future Queen. He itched morosely in his fine clothing, annoyed by the heat and his own nervousness.

Dinner was held in the grand dining room, and Arthur felt his nervousness reach a new height when he noticed Gilbert was not in attendance. He knew the Joker had only mentioned coming for the entertainment, but he had hoped he would be there for Arthur's first night among the company of the Council. Nervousness dissipated, however, as, for the first time, Yao permitted Arthur some wine. Alfred pouted for a little while at not being given the same privilege, but Arthur saw him sneak a sip and make a face of disgust, which seemed to lighten his disappointment considerably. Arthur didn't think it tasted like anything special, but he drank more than one cup thanks to Francis' generous pouring hand, and he found he liked the slight light-headedness that was hidden at the bottom of his second serving. Toasts were made and there was a much more casual feeling to the gathering than Arthur had anticipated.

After the servants had taken away the last course of dinner, coffees and teas were brought out with a selection of delicate sweets. Yao whispered in Arthur's ear that he and Alfred should excuse themselves to get ready for their performance, and they did so. Alfred appeared to be so nervous that he didn't even think to complain about not getting dessert.

Beautifully upholstered chairs had been set up and the piano placed in the largest of the music rooms. Arthur set about to tuning his violin wordlessly, while Alfred plunked morbidly as he tried to get reacquainted with the piece. After so many rehearsals, Arthur knew that Alfred had the piece well memorized and was simply over-thinking out of panic. He could have offered a comforting word, but he felt like he couldn't break through the wall between them, regardless of what had erected it.

A sudden thunk sounded from the piano, and Arthur was just about to turn around to see what had caused it when he was stopped by the firm hold of Alfred hugging around the middle from behind, face buried in Arthur's shoulder. He didn't move for a moment, then twisted until he could set his violin down, struggling since Alfred refused to loosen his grip.

"What's wrong, Alfred?" he asked, voice sounding gravelly from a lack of use.

"I can't play. Not if you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you," Arthur lied easily and tried to wiggle away.

"Yes, you are! I'm sorry for whatever I did and if you tell me, I won't do it again! But please, don't be mad at me!"

Sighing heavily, Arthur managed to turn himself around and return the embrace awkwardly. "I'm not mad, Alfred. And you're going to do fine. You know how to play. I believe you can do it."

Alfred looked up at him with an annoying hopefulness. "Really?"

"Yes, you fool, now let go before everyone gets here."

Alfred gave him a hard squeeze before letting go and returning to the piano, running through his music smoothly. They barely had enough time to practise once together before a servant was opening the doors and the Council began to take their seats, chatting mildly as they waited. Yao moved to the front of the room and cleared his throat, gesturing with arms thrown wide.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Deck Council, the young wards of the House of Spades would like to demonstrate their gratitude and excitement at your presence by performing a musical piece. Under the guidance of the Jack of Clubs, they have rehearsed in your honour. I hope you will enjoy the product of their diligence." There was a polite smattering of applause as Yao took his seat and then all was left to Arthur and Alfred.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur made eye-contact with Alfred and nodded, another inhale synchronizing their movements as the first note of the song rang out. Arthur closed his eyes and let the music carry him, feeling unburdened now that he could relax into what he loved best. Alfred was playing brilliantly, neither following nor leading, but each playing as an extension of the other. It seemed to end much too soon, as if time had sped up and they had barely played at all, and Arthur opened his eyes, letting them wander to Alfred once more as the final note vibrated in the hot summer air, noting that he, too, was just now opening his eyes. There was a moment of silence, a moment in which some tender acknowledgement of intimate achievement occurred between them, but then the Council was clapping and Feli was calling out something loud, but encouraging and the chattering began again.

Elizaveta was the first to stand, boldly approaching the boys and reaching out to give them a fond pat on the cheek.

"You work wonderfully together. I look forward to seeing what else you produce in the future," she cooed, and Arthur felt his gut twist a little in knowing what she meant. She turned to Roderich next and congratulated him on the fine job he had done in his tutoring, kissing him tenderly on the cheek, then wiping away her lipstick mark with her fingers. No one batted an eye at the display of affection, and it was only then that Arthur realized their romantic relationship was no secret, and no problem.

Ludwig shook both of their hands, mentioning that he too played the violin and would love to work with Arthur someday. Feliciano jabbered away about all the songs they could play, while Kiku asked Alfred if he may look at the sheet music, then began asking him questions about his process of study. Lilli was banished to bed by Vash, leaving only Ivan to smile oddly and nod his approval before leaving, and Francis, who was still seated as if he were waiting for something. Yao said little but a heartfelt congratulations, and Arthur was happy that he had not failed his caretaker.

After Arthur had packed his violin away, he looked to Alfred to start back to the rooms, but the other had a sour expression on his face, and Arthur realized it was because Francis had still not departed.

"That was excellently played, gentlemen. I especially admire your skill, Arthur. You play quite... _passionately_," he flattered, and offered an arm to Arthur. Feeling uneasy, Arthur took it, knowing he had little choice, and hoped that Alfred wouldn't cause a scene.

The walk towards their rooms was uncomfortable, with Alfred staying miserably silent, Francis asking question after question about Arthur's musical interests and background, and Arthur trying to remain polite without giving Francis the wrong impression. He knew the Diamonds were lodged on the third floor, so he hoped that Francis would not insist on escorting him all the way to his bedroom. The idea of the King being anywhere near his private chambers made his stomach flip in something close to fear, but it seemed that he would not have to worry this night, for Francis was saying his goodbyes and taking his hand between his own again.

"I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, when the Council truly begins. Sleep well, Arthur." He gave another flourish and kissed his hand, this time looking up at him through his thick golden lashes in a way that made Arthur's face heat up without his conscious consent. Francis spared only a nod in Alfred's direction, and Arthur thought that would be the end of the whole thing.

But then Alfred was stepping forward and said his goodnight loudly enough that Francis turned around just in time to see Alfred kiss Arthur on the cheek.

If it really had been on the cheek, Arthur might have understood that Alfred was just trying to get his point about propriety across, but the kiss was actually placed more on the corner of his mouth, so close to being a proper kiss that Arthur felt his heart start to beat faster in shock. Francis arched an eyebrow, but didn't say anything, and Alfred looked over his shoulder back at him. There was tense non-verbal communication between them that Arthur didn't quite understand, and then Francis was gone.

"Wha-?" Arthur was having trouble speaking again, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway since Alfred cupped his face with a gentle hand and half kissed him again. This time Arthur found the strength to push Alfred away with a none-too-friendly-shove.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Alfred blinked owlishly, as if he couldn't understand what he had done out of the ordinary.

"I- I don't know, I just-"

"Yes, well, figure it out before you try that again!" Arthur interjected, then turned to flee, his whole body feeling far too warm and itchy. He made it barely ten paces before he had a thought and gasped, whirling around to still see Alfred standing in the hallway, puzzled.

"No! What I meant to say is that you shouldn't try to do that ever again! That's what I meant." Arthur waited for Alfred to say something, but he didn't. "Do you understand? Don't- don't do that again. I don't want you to!"

Alfred's face crumpled and Arthur thought he might cry, but then he started laughing.

"Yes you do!" he crowed, and kept on laughing, even when Arthur stomped his foot in distress, mouth hanging open in disbelief, but unable to deny the accusation. He was too shocked by the whole affair to properly defend himself, and decided that a strategic retreat was the best plan.

Arthur could hear Alfred laughing the whole way back to his room, and he slammed his door shut against all of the jealousy, embarrassment and confusion he'd felt in the last forty-eight hours. He most certainly did not want Alfred kissing his cheek, he told himself, but the spot where he had was tingling so violently that Arthur tried to rub the sensation out with the back of his hand.

It didn't work.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Again, one million apologies for updating late and with such a terrible chapter. I'd promise the next one is better, but I shouldn't make promises I can't keep. Thank you for bearing with me! **


	12. Chapter 12

Arthur felt out of place amongst the rainbow-like gathering in the grand parlour. The spacious room had been gutted of its fine sofas and glass display cases of antiques to make room for an ornately carved, round table. Dressed in their House colours, the Deck Council glittered like so many gemstones in a giant's crown, hues exaggerated by the light coming in from the wall of intricately paned windows. It was hot, both from the weather and the excitement of so many bodies packed together, and Arthur couldn't stop himself from sending sidelong glances about the room at his contemporaries, watching them shift and sweat in their delicate silks and cottons, see-through from lightness in some places. Despite the heat, the Council spared nothing in terms of opulence, from fine beading and embroidery on the men's jackets, waistcoats and trousers, to the sparkle of jewels around the women's wrists and throats. The Queen of Clubs was particularly showy, electing to make up for the fact that her long, beautiful had to be pinned up for comfort's sake with an acidic green shock of feathers tucked into her chignon.

But it was not only the flagrant display of wealth that unnerved Arthur. Each member of the Deck Council was wearing a circlet or diadem as an indication of their status, or, in Alfred and Lilli's case, future status. Arthur was the only person in attendance who had escaped this fate, but it was beginning to feel more like a condemnation. No matter how hard he tried to keep his eyes on his notes in front of him, they kept wandering to the precious metal sparkling on the Council's heads. A small teardrop emerald glistened on Elizaveta's forehead, suspended by twisted lines of silver; Feliciano's golden circlet looked out of place given his playful disposition; Lilli wore not so much a crown as a wreath made of painted silk flowers encrusted with amber, topaz and diamonds, and Alfred kept fidgeting with his own headpiece, partially because it was slightly too big for him and partially because he never wasn't fidgeting. Arthur thought it suited him, though; the silver was a stunning contrast to his dirty-blonde hair and warm complexion, and the modest sapphires embedded in the metal made his eyes seem shockingly blue. Then Arthur realized he had spent far too long in study of Alfred and he went back to staring at the tabletop.

As far as Alfred knew, Arthur was attending only because his father was influential and Arthur needed to know something of politics in order to follow in his footsteps. The Council acted as if this was entirely true, and while Arthur was grateful that there seemed to be no betrothal announcement in the near future, he felt his stomach twist every time he looked around the room and thought to himself, "_This is where I belong. I should have a crown on my head, as well._"

The Hearts had been speaking the majority of the morning about their plans to construct a cultural museum celebrating the traditions of all the Houses and their unification. Feliciano had been focused and appropriately eloquent for once as he showed off his preliminary architectural sketches.

"We do not have the funds to complete the project by ourselves," Kiku said demurely. Arthur found it so odd when he spoke, since it seemed he rarely did, but Kiku commanded the attention of the room effortlessly. "If any donation toward this could be made by each esteemed House, we could have it constructed and operating within the next two years."

Talk of money seemed to perk Vash up and he leaned forward in his seat warily. "What kind of finances are we talking about? What amount? And what about supplies?"

Ludwig put up a hand reassuringly. "We have the resources for the actual building, but not the funds for labour." Arthur tuned out as he went into some elaborate speech of sums and costs. Numbers had never been interesting to Arthur, but Alfred was jotting down notes rapidly, doing some mathematical calculations and circling a few things before pushing the paper over to Yao. Nodding, Yao whispered something in Alfred's ear, then patted him on the back. Technically, Alfred had no authority in the proceedings of the Deck Council, but Yao had made a consistent effort to explain issues to him and ask his opinion.

The other Houses were now in deep discussion as well. Ivan was speaking rapidly to Elizaveta while Roderich nodded and looked through a pile of documents in front of him. Finding what he needed, he pointed out a few details of the page to Ivan, who smiled and said something that made Elizaveta laugh quietly. Vash was scribbling furiously, obviously doing some calculations of his own, then shoving the final number in front of Francis' face, nervously waiting for his approval. Francis smirked and crossed the number out, replacing it with one that made Vash's face go white for a moment, but the Jack merely pressed his lips together and bowed his head in deference.

Rolling his eyes playfully, Francis shifted in his seat and caught sight of Arthur watching the exchange. He smiled gently and winked, and Arthur gulped and pressed his lips together. Francis had been nothing but gentlemanly and kind in the past few days, and even if Arthur thought all of this winking and hand-kissing business was odd, he didn't have any real reason to dislike the King of Diamonds. Not knowing what else to do, he offered a brief smile in return and mouthed "hello". Francis was only two seats removed from himself, and he opened his mouth and leaned forward as though he were going to speak directly to Arthur, but then Alfred was having a suspicious coughing fit that made Arthur jump back to attention sheepishly.

Yao broke the frenzy. "This session is getting rather long. Perhaps we should break and everyone can consider their offers more carefully?"

"I agree. There is no need to rush such delicate matters," Kiku murmured as if he were ashamed to be asking for support in the first place.

"If that is the case, then perhaps the Council should also take time to consider any works of art or literature they would like to be memorialised in the completed museum." Ludwig said, then gestured to Feliciano. "We have an excellent team of artists who would be capable of creating replicas, since I know that the Houses would not wish to donate the original works, and understandably so."

"Then, should we also compile a list of pieces for consideration along with our financial offers and present them in the next session?" Ivan proposed, odd Northern accent thick and cumbersome to Arthur's ears. Everyone nodded or murmured their assent, and Ivan smiled his crooked smile, eyes lighting up childishly, "Oh good, then we all agree!"

Yao mentioned something about refreshments and the majority of the Council left for the dining room right away. Arthur didn't want anything so he waited until only the Spades remained to let out a huge breath and rub his hands down his face. The last week had been nerve-wracking, and there was still a little over a month to go. Alfred nudged his shoulder and turned around to hop onto the table, feet swinging over the carpet.

"So what do you think?" he inquired, head cocked into his shoulder as he leaned back to support himself on his palms. Things had not been any less awkward between them of late. For every friendly hello or goodbye Arthur got from the King of Diamonds, Alfred was there to follow it up with his own greeting. Arthur had become rather adept at turning his head at the right moment to ensure the tiny kisses landed on the middle of his cheek and nowhere else. It wasn't that he enjoyed them so much as he didn't want to seem prudish. Most of the other Council members greeted each other in a similar fashion, and Arthur didn't need to seem more out of place than he already felt. Besides, if Alfred was crossing some boundary, Yao would have put a stop to it by now. It was just a quirk that Arthur would have to endure while Alfred felt the need to show off in front of the Council.

"About what?"

"Alfred, get off the table," Yao called in passing as he finished gathering his notes and went chasing after the rest of the Council.

Alfred pulled a face and rolled his eyes behind Yao's back, but made no move to get down. "About the museum thing. I think it's a good idea."

"Oh. I don't know." Arthur hadn't thought to have opinions on the matter, too distracted to have any productive ideas. He put his chin in his hand and looked up at Alfred curiously. "You do? Like it, I mean. Why?"

Shrugging, Alfred fussed with his crown again. "Yao told me it would benefit everyone to have their history remembered. It's what we come from, right? So I think it makes sense to know about it and keep it safe somewhere."

Arthur nodded. There was a lesson about learning from mistakes in there somewhere, but he couldn't think of the right way to phrase it, so merely batted at Alfred's arm. "Stop playing with that!"

"It's too big. It keeps slipping," he whined and took the crown off all together, fiddling with it in his lap instead. "I don't fill it very well, do I?" Alfred's shoulders slumped an almost imperceptible amount and his legs stopped their swaying.

"_No, you're doing an excellent job_," Arthur thought to himself, but couldn't quite manage to say it aloud. He settled for patting Alfred's knee tentatively and murmuring, "You're still young. It will fit someday."

"Maybe," allowed Alfred, still unsure. He looked down at Arthur's hand and put his own over it, gangly and almost bigger. Curling his fingers around to Arthur's palm, he squeezed once, but didn't let go. "I just don't want to let anyone down."

"You aren't!" Arthur declared. "You're doing as well as can be expected for your first time. Better, even. Look at how much Yao is letting you participate! If he didn't think you were doing well, he wouldn't defer to you as often as he does. And all the Council seems to like you!"

"That's not true. Ivan doesn't like me, I just know it, and Francis, he... well, I don't know." Alfred shook his head and frowned, then looked down at Arthur shyly. "But you think I'm doing all right? You, personally?"

Arthur's mouth gaped open as he tried to think of a way he could agree without seeming like he been paying special attention to Alfred's actions. It was important for him to appear indifferent, though why that was, Arthur himself couldn't exactly recall. "I... well, I mean, I don't know much about this kind of thing, but you aren't doing _poorly,_ at least, no."

Alfred laughed and rearranged their fingers so that they fit together. "Thanks, I guess." Arthur's stomach clenched at the way his hand was starting to get warm, and the way Alfred was looking at him, open and almost with affection. Thankfully, the moment was ruined by Alfred's crown slipping on his forehead and ending up at an awkward angle above one eye. He laughed again, and Arthur used it as an opportunity to reclaim his hand, shaking his tingling fingers out underneath the table. But while his hand may have been safe for the moment, Alfred was still looking at him with that queer expression.

"What?"

"Hold on, I want to try something." Arthur remembered all to well the last time Alfred had wanted to "try something", and his heart fluttered nervously in his chest. His eyes slipped closed, not knowing what to expect, half-thinking he knew, but all that he felt was something cold on his forehead and Alfred smoothing his hair down. Arthur opened his eyes again, and reached up to find the modest crown on his own head.

"Perfect fit," Alfred said. Arthur wasn't sure if he sounded sad or happy, but he wasn't sure of much at all anyway, not when Alfred's hand was on his cheek guiding up while he himself was leaning down. Arthur's breath caught for a moment before he sighed out of his mouth. He had a fleeting thought that, no, his mouth needed to be closed if this was going to work right, but then there was a rustle of fabric in the doorway and Arthur jumped back to reality, mortified that he had nearly... well, he didn't know what he had nearly done, but he felt the aching race of his heart and the heat in his face. In that fleeting instant, he had wanted something he'd never wanted before, something he didn't have a name for yet.

"I thought I might find you he- oh, am I interrupting something?" Gilbert queried, leaning against the door frame after entering with a flourish.

Alfred wasn't saying anything, still staring at Arthur with half-focused eyes, but pouting like he was put out. Realizing how they must look, Arthur let panic take the reins and stood. "No. What? No, no. We were just playing around, we-" Arthur winced and shook his head. "No, not playing around I meant, we were just-" here he removed the crown and shoved it back onto Alfred's head. "Not interrupting no! Wait. Where have you been?"

Gilbert only graced the Council with his presence at the evening meal and at the entertainments. Otherwise, Arthur hadn't seen or heard from him the entire week.

Giving the pair an appraising look that had even Alfred squirming on the table, Gilbert grinned and waved a hand dismissively. "Here and there. Went into town last night. Got your brother into some trouble," he said, pointing at Alfred and then flicking him on the forehead beneath where his crown was going crooked. Alfred laughed and began to say something, but Arthur cut him off.

"Trouble? What did you do to him? "

"Calm down, you sound like an old woman. I just got a few of the boys down in the servants' quarters to go out with me. Drinks, music, that kind of thing. Nothing too unsavoury, princess."

Arthur ignored the nickname, too worried about his friend to care that he sounded like a flustered mother hen. "But what about Matthew?"

"That boy is a regular comedian once you get a few drinks in him. Never seen a surer hand with horses, either." Gilbert scratched the back of his neck and shrugged. "I have half a mind to tell Yao that if he doesn't start investing more in the boy, I'm going to make him a generous offer and take him on myself. Good kid."

"Would you really do that?" Alfred asked, wide eyed. "Would you really take him?"

Gilbert smirked and punched Alfred in the arm playfully. "I always get what I want don't I? Why? You want me to take him off your hands?"

"No!" Alfred and Arthur cried at the same time, but Arthur ducked his head down, knowing that they felt so strongly for vastly different reasons.

Chuckling, Gilbert held up his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine, I won't. But if Yao doesn't give him a promotion or a raise or _something_ I'm going to have take matters into my own hands. I don't think your jailer knows how lucky he is."

Alfred rolled his eyes."It's just Matt."

Sensing it was time to change the subject, Gilbert tilted his head toward the door. "And why aren't you two with the Council?"

"Not hungry," Arthur lied, surprised when Alfred nodded in agreement.

"Oh well, if either of you are interested, I've got a horse race down by the orchards in half an hour I'm looking to make some money on. Care to join?"

"Who's racing?" Arthur inquired.

"I am," Gilbert boasted with a toothy grin.

"You can't bet on yourself!" Alfred crowed.

"Why not? You should always bet on yourself. You're the only one who knows what you are going to do! Now are you coming or not?"

"Yeah!"

Arthur shook his head. "No, thank you, I'm a little tired." He'd had trouble sleeping again, tossing and turning from the heat and an overactive mind.

"Suit yourself then! C'mon Alfred, let's go make a few grown men cry."

Watching as they made to exit the parlour, Arthur was overcome with the feeling he'd forgotten something important. He almost followed, but called out instead, "Alfred!"

"What?" Alfred looked over his shoulder, the bright light from the windows making him look like a wash of colours against the doorway.

"I don't... Be careful! If you get hurt- Yao will be mad, if you get hurt. Don't do anything stupid, please." Arthur felt like the stupid one as he gave his pointless warning.

Alfred cocked his head to the side in confusion, then laughed and walked back over to Arthur. "All you had to do was ask," he whispered teasingly, then kissed Arthur on the cheek. "I'll be back soon, don't worry."

"I'm not worried!" Arthur protested as Alfred walked away again, eyes flitting up to Gilbert, who was watching the exchange with twisted fascination. "I just don't want you to get into trouble."

But Alfred was already gone and Arthur was left to share a long with the Joker, who shook his head and smiled mostly to himself.

"I don't think he's the one you need to worry about, Arthur. You're in trouble enough for the both of you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur demanded, but the only answer he received was a dramatic shrug as Gilbert, too, disappeared into the hall.

* * *

><p>Alfred's legs were beginning to ache, and his chest felt tight, but he pushed himself as the ball came flying towards him once more. Trying to time his swing perfectly, he lobbed the ball back across the net with a grunt. Queen Elizaveta dove to save it, but it was too late and Alfred had scored another point for his team.<p>

They were playing at tennis in doubles, Alfred paired with the reserved, but nimble Queen of Hearts, and their opponents being Elizaveta and King Francis. It was early evening, the sky a mixture of rosy orange and soft blue, but it was still warm out. The tennis courts were on the far side of the garden, surrounded by manicured hedges and flanked by stone benches, the entire area lit by a few bright torches in the fading sunset. Alfred and Arthur had only rarely played since he didn't much care for tennis, but now he was wishing he had practised more. The King of Diamonds was by no means an athlete, but he had a sure eye and hand, and he played defensively, a strong counterpoint to the Queen of Clubs' brash style. Alfred didn't understand how she could play so aggressively in her dress and heeled boots. Granted, the dress was shortened to mid-calf and the boots were meant for recreation, but it still looked restricting to be playing in a skirt. It didn't stop her from dominating the better portion of the match, though, wisps of hair coming loose at her temples with sweat, the rest hanging in an elegant braid down her back. More than once, Alfred had run one way in anticipation of her next strike, only to find the ball whizzing past in the opposite direction.

Kiku congratulated him for scoring, with a slight bow of the head. The Queen of Hearts was quick on his feet and stronger than he looked, and he had saved their team from loss with brilliant last-minute manoeuvres. He wasn't a very physical player, choosing to strategize rather than needlessly exert himself. Alfred had a tendency to swing at anything that moved, so it was good to have such a cunning player balancing things out.

"Match point!" Yao cried from one of the benches, and Ivan clapped gleefully and leaned over to say something in his ear. Whatever it was made Yao giggle behind his hand and shoot Ivan a warning look.

"Why don't we make this interesting?" Francis called from across the net, adjusting his hair, which he had tied back for the match. "A little wager, perhaps?"

"I do not care for gambling, I apologise," Kiku demurred.

"Winning is the only prize I need, Francis, now get on with it!" Elizaveta retorted, spinning her racket in her hand.

Francis looked to Alfred and raised an eyebrow.

"What did you have in mind?" Alfred asked cautiously, then obliged as Francis waved for him to come closer.

Speaking in a voice so low that Alfred had to lean over the net to hear, Francis nodded his head toward the benches. "There's one thing out here we both want, is there not?"

Alfred followed his gaze to where Arthur was sitting, legs crossed and chin in his hand, oblivious to the wager taking place. "I don't think we can compete for that."

"Can't we?" Francis mused, and stood taller as if to intimidate his opponent.

"I only mean that there is no competition. He likes me better. I've already won that prize," Alfred boasted, maintaining eye contact with Francis, not to be outdone. Francis just tilted his head back and laughed.

"Then you have nothing to lose if I propose the wager to be time spent without interruption? If he already cares for you more, than I'm hardly a threat."

"How much time?"

"Let's say... two hours? Alone."

"When?"

"At the time of the victor's choosing. Now, do we have a wager?"

Alfred chewed his lip and looked at Francis' outstretched hand. Anything could happen in two hours, and a few unsavoury scenarios flew through Alfred's mind. If he didn't win, then Arthur would be at the mercy of this slimy frog; not that Arthur couldn't and wouldn't fend for himself, but Alfred didn't trust Francis to keep his courtly ways without supervision. Still, if he didn't agree, then Alfred's boast would fall flat.

"Let's get on with it!" Elizaveta cried.

"Fine," Alfred sneered, and shook on it.

Returning back to his side of the court, Alfred waited tensely for the ball to be put into play. He ran faster and hit harder than he had the entire match, stakes so much higher. He lobbed a powerful play over the net, but Francis stopped it at the last moment, and returned it with impressive force. Anticipating the trajectory of the ball, Alfred reached out, body elongating as he swung again.

But the frame of his racket barely skimmed the ball, and Alfred watched in horror as the opposing team earned the winning point. Alfred could hardly hear Kiku's assurances that he had played a worthy game, instead focused on the smirk Francis shot his way.

"To the victor go the spoils," he called cheerily and Alfred tasted bitter bile in the back of his throat. He'd lost, and lost fairly, but a world where Alfred had to give up the object of his affections to the whims of the King of Diamonds seemed wholly unjust.

The other Council members had taken to the court now, congratulating the winning team and commenting on what a close match it had been. Arthur, much to Alfred's dismay, was complimenting Francis on his last manoeuvre, and laughing at something the King had said. Wanting nothing more than to drag him away and either hit or kiss him until he came to his senses, Alfred barely realized that Vash was talking to him until the Jack took his chin in hand and shook back and forth.

"Alfred! Are you listening?"

"What?"

"Your eyes," Vash repeated, turning Alfred's face side to side. "I noticed you were squinting during the match. Can you see well enough?"

Taken a back, Alfred pulled away and blinked rapidly. "As well as I usually can. I mean, far away things are sometimes blurry, but it's like that for everyone, isn't it?"

Vash sighed. "No, I'm afraid not. I'll have to speak to Yao. I noticed it during your last archery lesson as well."

"What do you mean?"

"I think your physician may need to examine you and you may need to wear spectacles, much like the Jack of Clubs. It is not uncommon for eyesight to change, Alfred, but it strains your eyes to squint so."

"Spectacles?" Alfred grimaced, imagining the bookish frames on his own face and not liking the result.

"You may not need them but I think it's worth looking into. Perhaps then you won't miss so many targets." Vash's mouth quirked into something not quite joyful enough to be a smile. "Or as many balls."

Alfred pouted and fought the urge to kick something. Not only had he lost Arthur, if only for a little while, to Francis, but now he might be doomed to wearing ridiculous contraptions on his face all the time.

Any hope he had had of finally confessing his feelings to Arthur disintegrated with the last of he self esteem, and he wallowed in his helplessness. Feeling another hand on his shoulder, Alfred jumped to find Kiku behind him.

"Do not worry so much, Alfred. It is only a temporary loss."

"Aww, no, Kiku, I don't care so much about the match. It's just tennis."

Kiku smiled and shook his head gently, casting his eyes downward thoughtfully. "I was not referring to the match, forgive me." With a little bow, Kiku went to rejoin his House, smiling back at Alfred over his shoulder.

* * *

><p>Three more weeks of Council passed. Arthur still felt out of place because of his secret, but he no longer felt like the Council members disliked him. He found comfort especially in the kindness of the other Queens; Kiku was never anything less than polite and considerate to Arthur, and after getting to know each other better, the Queen of Hearts had even invited Arthur to a private tea party in his room. Elizaveta and Yao had been there as well, and it was the first time Arthur had felt like he might someday be friends with these people instead of just a student.<p>

Elizaveta had taught him a few card games, winking as she laid down a winning hand. "There's nothing to do up in my country during winter except for play cards and drink. I don't like alcohol, so you can imagine how often I win against the King and Roderich." Arthur had laughed, but couldn't imagine the stern Jack of Clubs partaking in spirits; from what Arthur had seen, he'd abstained from drinking during the last month. Still, Arthur was beginning to realize that the first impressions he'd gotten from the Council were just fronts; beneath were normal people who had been chosen for extraordinary positions. Perhaps they had felt as lost and unworthy as he did at one point.

It was nearly impossible to remind himself of this however, now that he was watching Lilli and Alfred. Council sessions would resume in a few days, but for now, a filmy white canopy had been erected in the garden, mounds of plush rugs and pillows beneath for reclining in the midday heat. The palace was so stuffy that it was more comfortable to relax outdoors in the shade, and the servants provided a continual parade of chilled wines and teas, fruit soaked in liqueurs and honey, and dainty sandwiches. Most of the Council was content to lounge quietly and enjoy the fresh air, but Ivan and Yao were pouring over a diagram of some new weapon the Clubs were trying to invent, and Alfred and Lilli were engaged in a game of chess, giggling more than playing from the sound of it.

Lilli was sillier than usual thanks to a cup of wine and some of the alcohol soaked strawberries. Vash had tried to forbid her from having any, but she was of age, and both Francis and Elizaveta had told him to leave her alone and let her have her fun. He'd grumpily retreated to the corner of the canopy, pulling out a book and disengaging from the group entirely. The heat was only increasing the effect of the alcohol on the poor girl; Arthur could feel his own head swimming a little, and he'd barely had anything to drink at all, despite Francis' attempts to keep his cup full. Lilli was laughing at practically everything that happened, whether it was Roderich sneezing or Alfred claiming one of her chess pieces. More than once Arthur watched as she knocked over one of the pieces while trying to move it, then dissolving into giggles so violent she could hardly sit up straight. Alfred found this all charming, apparently, and Arthur was mortified as he watched Lilli sneak him drinks and use her fingers to feed him a piece of fruit from her plate.

"Enjoying yourself?" Gilbert asked, flopping down on a pillow next to Arthur. He'd been talking with Ludwig, trying to goad him into singing some ridiculous song from their childhood until the King of Hearts had sternly scolded him to take his "drunken antics elsewhere".

"I suppose," Arthur said dryly, trying not to crane his neck so he could see over Gilbert and continue glowering at Lilli.

Gilbert caught the flick of his eyes, though and turned around, leaning back on his forearms. He clucked his tongue in mock disappointment, then laid back, lolling his head on the pillow to purse his lips dramatically at Arthur. "I told you."

"Told me what?"

"I told you that in a few years you'd be more than jealous if Alfred was still talking to pretty girls."

"Tch." Arthur took a drink to disguise his reddening face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right," Gilbert droned, unconvinced.

Arthur decided to change the subject. "Any more horse races lately? Alfred never did tell me what happened at the last one."

Gilbert grinned secretively, and laced his fingers across his stomach. "Oh, I lost that one, in a way." He looked at Arthur and shrugged. "Sometimes losing has its own perks."

"Like?"

"Let's just say that the victor does not always get the spoils."

"I beg to differ, dear friend." Francis was standing over them, mid-afternoon sun making a golden halo of his hair, and Arthur had to squint to make out his face.

"Oh yeah? What have you won recently? Last time I checked, the only battles you were capable of fighting were those not fit for virgin ears." Gilbert nodded his head toward Arthur, who was trying not to look shocked. "I can't have you ruining the children."

"I'm not a child," Arthur mumbled petulantly into his cup.

"Love, war... same thing if you ask me." Francis tossed his head. "Besides, I know for a fact the only thing you've ridden in years is that flea-bitten horse of yours."

Arthur half-choked on his mouthful of wine, laughter threatening to force it out of his nose. Gilbert was cackling loudly, rolling back and forth. There was something refreshing about the not so subtle crudity of the two men, a playful sort of faux-loathing that made Arthur miss the afternoons he spent with Matthew. Not that Matthew was ever remotely bawdy, but he did tease and cajole.

"Would you two be quiet please? There are ladies present," Elizaveta sniped, flapping a delicate fan near her face.

Gilbert rolled over onto his stomach to look at her, then pretended to search the area with a hand shaded over his brow. "Well, I see Lilli, so that would be "lady", singular, wouldn't it?"

Elizaveta growled and threw a grape at Gilbert's face, but he managed to catch it in his mouth. "Thank you, sweetheart, I was getting hungry."

"Gilbert, enough," Roderich cautioned.

"Oh no, now I've gone and upset the princess. I guess that's my cue to leave." Gilbert stood, smoothing out the wrinkles on his clothes and clapping Francis on the shoulder. "I've got some more action lined up for tonight. Care to join?"

Francis shook his head with a wry smile. "My Jack is already in agony over the amount of money I've signed over to the Hearts for their project. If I spend anything more I fear he'll burst a blood vessel."

"Suit yourself." Gilbert clicked his heels together and bowed low to the company at large. "Ladies. I bid you a good evening."

"Good riddance," Elizaveta muttered as she watched him saunter off, then closed her eyes and resumed her dozing, fanning slowing down as she relaxed.

Arthur was starting to feel like he were made of jelly, too hot and possibly drunk to move his limbs into a more comfortable position. He could still hear Lilli and Alfred laughing, and that irritated him, but it was too hard to truly care about anything when he was melting from the inside out. He considered closing his eyes and napping, but a hand was extended in front of his face, and Francis was leaning over him.

"Care for a walk?"

"What?"

"A walk. I've grown bored of all this sitting."

Taking his hand, Arthur let Francis pull him to his feet, swaying with the sudden rush of blood from his head. It took a moment for Arthur to steady himself, and Francis beamed down at him as though he were something precious and fascinating. It made Arthur's skin crawl, but he followed after Francis anyway.

"Arthur, where are you going?"

Looking back over his shoulder, Arthur saw as Alfred stood up.

"For a walk!"

Alfred seemed to debate following for a moment, but then Lilli was tugging at his sleeve and he sat down again, something close to a scowl on his face. If Alfred was upset that he was going off with Francis, Arthur didn't care; it served him right for choosing to fawn all over Lilli instead of sitting with him.

The walk down the garden path was silent, but not uncomfortably so. Arthur's legs were feeling more solid, even if he was still blissfully light-headed. Francis began to whistle a merry tune as they walked, then glanced at Arthur.

"Have you ever been to the sea?"

"Once. When I was younger. But it was raining so I can't say whether I like it or not, why?"

Francis adjusted the golden circlet on his head. "The Diamonds have a palace in the South, at the only place our land borders the sea. We were planning on moving there for the rest of the year. The winter is milder." He flashed a winsome grin. "You should visit us. I think you might like it."

Arthur didn't know how to respond, so he said a quiet "thank you" and asked, "What is it like there?"

"It's the loveliest place in the Kingdom. I'd live there year round if it wasn't so cursedly far from the important cities. The palace sits right on a sea cliff. It's always sunny and warm, and we have the most fragrant flowering trees in the courtyards. You could get drunk off the scent, I promise. And the interior is entirely marble and gold and tall glass windows; it sparkles like a jewel. It is the most beautiful thing in the world." Francis stopped and took Arthur's hand. "One of the most beautiful things, anyway."

"Why?" Arthur blurted out before he could stop himself, and wrenched his hand back. "Why do you keep saying things like that to me?"

"You don't think you deserve it?"

"I don't understand why you've taken such an interest I me. I'm not... and what about Lilli?"

Francis sighed and gestured to a stone bench surrounded by rose bushes. This part of the garden was set aside solely for the multitude of varieties that the Spades had cultivated over the years, some of which only grew at the palace. The air was thick and heady with the scent of their bloom and rot in the heat. Arthur sat down gingerly, recalling that this was not the first time he'd been pulled aside in the garden only to learn more than he'd ever imagined.

"Arthur, you must understand one thing, and that is that I adore Lilli. She is a precious flower, a brilliant young mind for all her childishness, and I think she will grow into a strong and capable Queen. But I do not wish to have her. There are some things in this world that should remain pure and untouched, whether by lust or war or politics. She is a treasure, and I will covet, not use her."

Feeling sick to his stomach, Arthur spat out, "So you intend to use me instead?"

"No! You misunderstand. I find you... appealing for the very opposite reasons I adore Lilli. Whatever Yao and the others may think of you, you are not some gentle lamb just waiting for crown to be placed on your head. I see in you a great passion, something I don't think even you have become aware of yet. It reminds me of someone from long ago, when I was your age, and frankly, at the risk of sounding like a crass old man, it makes me feel young again. That is why I've taken an interest in you. You have a draw that you don't even know how to use to your advantage, and it's endearing, if not intoxicating."

Arthur wasn't sure what to make of that and he fidgeted self-consciously. "You're being too honest."

"That is the only way I believe in dealing with matters of the heart. There is little point in hiding one's feelings. I've learned that lesson the hard way."

"How do you mean?"

Francis hummed thoughtfully and placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder, a graze expression taking his face. "The story I am going to tell you is not a pleasant one, but I think you need to hear it. Whether or not your fate lies with me, it is something you should know."

Arthur nodded, but dared not speak. Francis removed his hand, and tucked a wayward lock of hair behind his ear. "Back before the Council was created, during the great war, I was only a little older than you are now. I was named successor to the King as a child, but by the time I came of age, he and his Queen had not yet resigned. Do you know what the common ruling period is for a monarch?"

"Rarely more than twenty years, isn't it?"

"Yes. My predecessor kept his throne for nearly fifty. He'd had two Queens in that time, and showed no signs of relinquishing his position. He as an old man, vain and greedy, and the whispers of the people began to echo the word "tyrant". There was talk of rebellion and civil war long before Gilbert's folly plunged the Kingdoms into turmoil."

"But what does this have to do with love?"

Francis smiled sadly and gazed into his lap in introspection. "My Queen had also been chosen, but was likewise locked out of her rightful claim. She was the most kind-hearted and noble woman I have known. She would have done anything for her people if she had lived long enough to serve them as Queen." He sat in silent reflection, nodding his head as if agreeing with some imaginary recounting of the events.

Finally, Arthur could remain quiet no longer. "What happened to her?"

"One night, not long after the King of Clubs had begun his strike against the Hearts, a fire broke out at the palace. Rebels had come in the darkness to overthrow the monarchy and install a new regime. They had timed it just right, waiting until a large portion of the palace guard had been dispatched to maintain control at the borders. Our forces had little chance of holding them at bay, and they ransacked the palace." Francis' voice broke and he had trouble continuing for a moment. "Their assassination attempt on the King was successful, but there were some others who were not able to escape the palace. I was lucky. I got out and was taken to safety in the country for a few months while the rebellion was dealt with. My Queen was not so fortunate. I do not know if she died in the flames, or the looters killed her, but I never saw her again. I loved her above all things, above myself, and perhaps even above my country, but I never told her. The one person I held most dear never knew because I was afraid to admit my feelings."

Turning to Arthur once more, Francis' eyes were rimmed with red, but he refused to let any tears fall. "Do you understand, now? I will never stop loving her, but if I feel something, if I find beauty in something, I must say it. I won't risk waiting too long ever again. It would be a disservice to her memory."

"I'm so sorry, Francis." Arthur whispered, throat dry and straining to speak.

Francis smiled softly and miserably and reached out to cup Arthur's cheek. He gave him a level look, waiting to see if he would pull away, then leaned in until Arthur could almost feel the brush of his lips against his own. Part of him wanted to let it happen, wanted to give the King something happy in the wake of his tale, but he screwed his eyes shut and turned away.

"I can't. I understand, but I don't... I don't feel the way you do. I'm sorry."

Arthur didn't know if he expected to be yelled at or struck, but he certainly did not expect Francis to sigh lightly and laugh to himself.

"I thought it would be this way, but I had to know for certain." He patted Arthur on the shoulder once more. "I do hope we can be friends, at least."

"That's it? Just like that, and we can be friends?"

Francis tossed his head and crossed his legs. "It is never wise to force love where there is none. There is no beauty or honour in that. You've said no, and I will respect that until the day comes that you should decide otherwise."

Arthur found himself at a loss for words again, but one question still plagued his mind. "How is it that you and Gilbert became such good friends, then, if he... well... if he hadn't stepped down-"

"Then perhaps my Queen would not have been killed? Yes, I thought that, too, at first. Even he was eager to take the blame. He came to me not long after and offered me his sword. _Kill me_, he'd begged, _it's all my fault and I can't live with it anymore_. I would have done it; I was so filled with rage and hatred and confusion, but I knew in my heart of hearts that she would not have wanted more blood to be spilt. As I said, the rebellion had been a long time coming, and it would have been unfair for me to blame Gilbert for her death. We've seen each other at our worst, the Joker and I, and I'd like to think that someday we will see each other at our best. That bond has carried us through the years, and will carry us still when I have long since resigned and he has stopped chasing after ghosts, trying to make up for the mistakes of his youth."

"I fear I have misjudged you, Francis."

Francis laughed and stood once more, offering Arthur his arm, which he took without pause. "How so?"

"Gilbert made you out to be nothing more than a flamboyant sex fiend."

"He's not wrong."

"No, he is. You're a good man. Whatever else you may do, you are good."

Pausing to twist a bright red rose from one of the bushes, Francis offered it to Arthur with a playful bow. "Thank you, Arthur. Beauty for the beautiful."

Accepting it with a smile, Arthur let Francis take his arm again and set off back toward the group at the other end of the garden. Approaching, Arthur could see that Roderich and Elizaveta had gone off somewhere, though everyone else seemed to be more or less where they had left them.

"Fraaaaanciiiiiis!" a shrill, slurred voice called, and Arthur found himself pushed aside as Lilli stumbled to hug the King around his middle. Francis swayed in support of her weight, then pushed the hair back from her eyes in an almost fatherly fashion.

"I fear you've had too much to drink, my sweet. Why don't you come lie down?"

Arthur didn't hear her reply, focused instead on Alfred, who was standing a few feet away from him and was staring at the flower in his hand with brow furrowed. Stepping forward with the King's story fresh in his mind, Arthur offered him the rose. "Here. I want you to have this." Alfred's face turned pink and he took it shyly, then pecked Arthur's cheek with greater speed and awkwardness than normal.

"Thanks, Arthur, I-"

But he was interrupted as Lilli wrapped her arms around Arthur from behind and cooed "Where's your crown Arthur? Shouldn't you have one?"

"Lilli!" Vash called warningly, and Arthur felt panic flutter in his chest, eyes seeking out Yao who was rising to his feet and trying to pick his way across the labyrinth of pillows and serving trays.

"A Queen should have a a crown, and Arthur is going to be Queen! Wait! You can borrow mine!" Lilli slurred and laughed as she placed her flower crown on Arthur's head crookedly. "See? A Queen!"

No one so much as breathed. Arthur was in shock, the wreath slumping across his forehead, and his face burning up as Alfred stared at him with mouth open and eyes wide. No one was coming to his rescue; no one was laughing and claiming it was all a joke, no one was offering any explanation. Silence, interminable, painful silence.

"Oh!" Lilli hiccuped and put her hands over her face. "I wasn't supposed to say- I'm so sorry, Arthur, I-"

"Is it true?" Alfred asked, voice cracking as he stepped closer to Arthur.

Arthur backed away in panic, tearing the crown off his head and letting it slip away through his fingers.

"Arthur, is it true?"

He looked at the faces of the Council, all frozen in various states of shock and concern, but still no one said anything.

"Arthur!"

He couldn't look at Alfred's face. He didn't want to see the anger or the hurt or the disappointment that would be there, so he ran. Without a word he ran back toward the palace, not stopping when he heard multiple voices call his name and heard footsteps pursuing him, willing himself to run faster and faster until he was reaching out for his doorknob and wrenching it open.

Arthur slammed it shut, knowing full well that Alfred was only yards behind him and he locked the door. Anne was on the sofa, knitting, and she looked up, startled by the loud bang of the door, and the subsequent banging of Alfred's fist against it as he called for Arthur again and again.

"What's happened?"

Unable to say anything, Arthur slid his back down the door until he was seated on the carpet, white-faced and out of breath. His hearing went fuzzy and then his vision tunnelled down to a pinpoint of light, dark spots blinding and disorienting him until he fell over and felt nothing at all.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: It gets more romantic and mature from here. I promise... sort of. **


	13. Chapter 13

"Arthur! Wait!" Alfred banged on the closed door, jiggling the knob even though he knew it was locked. "Open the door! Arthur! Please!" If he had just been a little faster, he could have caught Arthur before he slipped away. What he would have done after that, he didn't know, but nothing was going to get solved if he couldn't see Arthur face to face.

Alfred didn't know what to think. He wanted so much for it to be true, that Arthur had been there all along not as just some rich student, but as the Queen, _his _Queen. It would fix everything; Alfred would never have to worry about not loving who he married, he would never have to worry about Arthur leaving and forgetting about him, he would never have to hide his feelings for Arthur. But he remembered every dismissal, every painful rejection and conversation and avoidance and for the first time Alfred realized that _his _love only got him halfway. If Arthur had known from the beginning that he and Alfred were betrothed, and he was running away from it now, did that mean that he didn't want to be Queen? A swell of something akin to rage rose up into Alfred's chest. Arthur had known. Everyone had known and they'd all been lying to him. Renewing his attack on the door with savage energy, he didn't even waste the effort it would have taken to call out, focusing on his kicking, scratching and punching, as if he could reduce the solid wood to dust just from his sheer need for it to no longer exist. He was vaguely aware that his hands were starting to ache and burn but he didn't stop until a vice-grip pulled him away by the shoulders. Swinging wildly behind at whomever had grabbed him, Alfred snarled and tried to dig his heels into the floor, but the polished marble gave him no purchase.

"Let me go!" Alfred struggled to pull his arms out of his coat and duck away, but then he was being held a whole inch off the floor by his armpits and breathing became difficult. Whining and kicking, Alfred was heaved further down the hall only now becoming aware of the voice begging him to calm down.

"Your Highness! Alfred!" Yao's voice was high and nearly hysterical, but he held a hand out in an attempt at reason. "Please, just stop and we can talk about this!"

"No!" Alfred lunged forward and nearly succeeded in throwing his captor off and running down the hall past Yao, but he was tripped up and hit the ground with a solid thunk.

"Ivan! Was that really necessary!" Yao knelt down and gently turned Alfred's face to see if he was injured.

"You said to make him stop. I made him stop. He is quieter now, is he not?"

Alfred's forearms stung from the impact and he couldn't draw in sufficient breath. He allowed himself to be sat up and then brought to his feet again, a tight feeling turning hot beneath his ribs. Ivan pounded him on the back a few times and Alfred coughed a breath in and out, dizzy and sore. Alfred looked over his shoulder down the hall and leaned away weakly to make another break for it, but Ivan had him firmly by the upper arm and the pinching guidance forced him to stumble miserably back to his own quarters. Yao was still chattering away, asking if Alfred was all right, waiting for Alfred to respond, worrying more and more when he didn't, but it all sounded like buzzing to Alfred's ears. He was forced onto the sofa in his front room, and Ivan hovered defensively over him, waiting to see if he would attempt escape again. Alfred was much too tired to fight anymore; he shook his head at Ivan and flopped morosely onto his side.

"Are you going to be all right for a little while?" Yao peered down into Alfred's face, pursing his lips when the only response he got was a nod of the head. "We will talk about this, I promise. Can someone stay with him? I need to see to Arthur."

"I'll stay. You may need your brute again." Francis leaned casually in the doorway and gestured toward Ivan. If Francis was shocked or excited by the dramatic happenings of the last few minutes, he did not betray as much. Yao thanked him, and hurried from the room, fussing to put his hair back into place after the short altercation, with Ivan following doggedly behind.

Francis shut the door gently, and seated himself on the ottoman in front the sofa. Alfred squirmed under his steady gaze and wished that someone else had volunteered to stay with him. He was foolishly about to say as much when Francis sighed heavily and said, "I've been telling Yao to formerly announce your betrothal for years. Now he reaps what he has sown."

Alfred sat up. "What?"

"This would have been so much easier if you had both grown up with the idea of marriage . Making this ridiculous taboo of the subject has created unnecessary tension and embarrassment for all of us."

"No, I mean, you wanted him to tell me?"

"Of course."

"Why?" Alfred struggled to think of a way to pose his question without offending the King of Diamonds, but could manage nothing but indelicate frankness. "Why would you want the betrothal announced? You- you _want _Arthur, I mean, you wouldn't have known that before, but now... how can you say it would have been better?"

Francis tossed his hair and shrugged. "Forgive me, but whether or not you had known about the marriage would have had very little impact on my courtship of your dear friend. You should know that at least. Legal bindings have nothing to do with the heart, nor should they. Nothing should rule love, save for itself. Whether or not you care to believe it, I do have your best interests at heart. Perhaps not on a personal level, but we are to be political partners, after all. Domestic squabbling can be an ugly thing to carry over into the realm of business. I think your parents proved that quite well."

Alfred's hands clenched into fists and he had a hard time staying seated. "Don't you dare talk about my parents that way."

"Ah, no." Francis put out placating hand, expression contrite. "I did not mean for that to sound so judgemental. I thought highly of your parents. What I mean to say is that honesty in these types of situations does more good than concealing information in a misguided attempt at protecting the parties involved." He cleared his throat and averted his eyes. "I am not the enemy you have decided I am, Alfred."

"What do you mean?"

"I think this is a conversation better left until after we know the state of your Queen, but I do not know that we will get another chance. I will always fight for love when it is honest. Do you honestly love Arthur?"

Alfred choked on his surprise. He'd never been asked to declare his feelings so directly, not even by the person they were for. They were an army of a million tiny thoughts in his head, something he said to himself, a mantra; "I love you" was easy to say when no one could hear it, it felt true when no one would try to convince you otherwise. He didn't think he had to declare anything, that Arthur would just know somehow and then he'd know when Arthur loved him, too. That's what made love true. Nothing had to be said, it was just felt and no one had to know it except for the two people in love. It might have to be defended against invaders like Francis, but otherwise there wasn't any room for anyone else. He'd always thought that if he kept his love to himself, no one could destroy it, but now he realised that he had to offer it or it did no good.

"I, uh, yes. I do. Love him. I think."

Francis arched an eyebrow. "You think? Or you know?"

Alfred took a deep breath. "I know. But he doesn't, so it doesn't really count does it? It's no good if I do and he never knows, is it?"

"No." Francis sounded sad and he scratched at his cheek distractedly.

"So what do I do?"

"Tell him. Whatever way you can, as soon as you can. You tell him and you never stop."

"But... what about you? You were with him in the garden and-"

"Alfred, you should thank your lucky stars that you will grow to be attractive. It makes your nearly offensive stupidity much easier to bear."

Before he could open his mouth to rebuke the insult, Francis was sitting next to him, patting his knee fondly.

"He rejected me. Kindly, but rejected nonetheless. I think you were very right when you said that he much prefers you, even if it was only a hollow boast at the time."

Alfred felt a rush of relief and hope. He knew Arthur was smarter than to fall for Francis' sweet words. "Do you really think so?"

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"But what do I do if he doesn't love me either?" It pained Alfred to think of it, and he wrapped his arms around his middle to soothe the ache building there out of excitement and fear.

"You accept and respect his decision. Feelings change, Alfred, but you must deserve his love, not command it. Do you understand?"

It was all so much to take in and Alfred felt overwhelmed. He hadn't anticipated something so seemingly simple as love to be so complicated and dangerous. Alfred had barely had time to process the fact that Arthur was indeed his Queen, hadn't learned the truth of the matter from Yao, and he was already planning to confess his love. He had no idea how he would do it, but it was imperative that he did.

"I understand. Thank you, but why are you helping me?"

Francis laughed kindly, and put a hand over his heart. "I told you, I am always on the side of honest love. Why should I begrudge you something beautiful if you deserve it?"

"I was wrong about you, Francis. I don't like what happened between you and Arthur, but I'm sorry that I was so rude to you."

"I've been hearing that a lot lately."

Alfred was about to ask what he meant by that when there was a sharp rap on the door and Yao returned, looking exhausted and worried. Francis stood and offered Yao his seat, concern for the Jack evident in his gentle handling.

"Thank you, Francis, but I need to speak with Alfred in private now. I appreciate you staying with him."

"Of course. It has been my pleasure." Francis nodded and smiled fondly at Alfred before letting himself out.

As soon as the door closed, Yao let out a pained breath and leaned forward over his knees, rubbing his eyes and face with agitated fingers. "Are you angry still?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

"With me?"

Alfred thought about it for a moment, but couldn't arrive at a definitive conclusion. "Did everyone know? The Council, I mean. Were you all just... laughing at me?"

"No! No." Yao groaned into his hands. "I promise you, we all took this very seriously from the start. I didn't want you to find out like this. I'm so sorry."

"How long has Arthur known?"

"Since the beginning. Since he first came here."

_That_ made a little spark of anger fly up despite Alfred's best attempts to stay rational and calm. Arthur had been as good as lying to him for the past six years. His own best friend turned love had been lying to him, as had his Jack, someone who was supposed to be his closest political advisor and mentor.

"Why was he allowed to know, but not me?"

"He was older, I thought he could handle-"

"But I'm older now than he was then!" Alfred shouted and Yao flinched, but still didn't look at him.

"I was just trying to protect you!"

"From what! I know who I have to be Yao, so why keep _this_ from me?" Alfred's voice was strained and loud, but he could do nothing to bring it back to calm. Yao stood abruptly and flung his arms out, hair going loose and wild in his distress.

"Don't you think I wanted to tell you? Don't you think I am _tired _of acting as Regent? I could have announced this two years ago and Arthur could have been crowned and I could have stepped down and finally stopped being responsible for this Kingdom. I am _exhausted_, Alfred. Forgive my insensitivity, but I was ruling long before your parents were even _dead_. Everything was falling apart and I was the only one capable of making a rational decision, all because some feelings got hurt over love and marriage. So excuse me for not wanting to rush into another disaster. You were only a child and still you were spouting off all this garbage about love and devotion and I thought that if I waited long enough you would grow out of it, you would grow up and be able to handle the truth. You don't get a choice, Alfred, none of us do. I was trying to protect you, protect myself, from another generation of heartbreak!"

Alfred had never considered how hard Regency must have been on Yao. He had to take on the role of both King and Queen as well as tutor the future monarchs. Alfred had always taken for granted that Yao was there to serve and help him; he expected it, it was what Jacks did. But Yao had been forced to go beyond his ordinary duty to protect the Kingdom. He had every right to be tired, but even if Alfred knew this, it didn't stop him from being upset.

"Then why bring Arthur so young if you weren't going to tell me?"

"I wanted you to get used to him, Alfred! I wanted you to grow up together so that when the time came, it might not be so difficult for you to wed. Two friends are better than two strangers. Perhaps it is not the kind of love you would have preferred for your marriage, but it was the best I could do for you. I've tried to give you what little normalcy I could, but there is only so much I can bend the rules for you, Alfred. You can't always have what you want, even if it is wonderful."

But he had gotten what he wanted. Alfred did love his Queen. Something stopped him from telling Yao this, though. It was spiteful to keep it from him, vengeful to keep him in agony, but Alfred didn't want to share his feelings. He wanted them justified and returned first, he wanted to be able to prove Yao wrong and say that he was a good King not because of only his pedigree and politics, but because he loved more fiercely than anyone before him.

"I understand," he said neatly. "Is Arthur all right?"

Yao sighed again and ran his hands through his mussed hair and over his face. He paced the room and bit at his nails, and Alfred felt another contrite stab of guilt over the way he had overlooked all Yao had done for him over the years.

"He has made himself sick with nerves again. Anne said he fainted for a few moments, but by the time I saw him he was conscious, if uncommunicative. The physician is seeing to him now."

"When can I see him?"

"Not for a while, and it may be best to wait until he wishes to see you. This secret has been a terrible burden to him and I think he has misunderstood your reaction. He is terrified you will hate him."

"I could never hate him," Alfred mumbled to himself, but Yao heard and smiled down at him. He relaxed considerably and breathed in deeply.

"I am glad. You do not oppose the betrothal then?"

"I don't have a choice, but no, I don't. Arthur is... special to me. I care about him."

"He has become like a brother to you, hasn't he?"

Alfred shifted uncomfortably and shook his head. "No, not like that, not really. But he is my best friend, and like you said, that is better than strangers."

Yao nodded and looked toward the clock on the wall. "It is getting late. If you are feeling uneasy, I can arrange to have your meal brought to you this evening. I know this is all a shock to you still, and I don't want to upset you or the Council any further. Ludwig informed me that Lilli is quite distraught over the whole affair."

"No. I'll join the others. I need to... I need to apologise for my behaviour and I want to speak to Lilli. I don't want her to be worried about this. I'm glad it happened, in a way."

Yao smiled and put a hand on Alfred's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. He was about to pull away, but Alfred hugged him around the middle and closed his eyes against the sudden stinging threat of tears. "Thank you, Yao. For everything. I didn't realize how much-"

"Shh, shh, there's no need to say anything. I'm sorry it had to be like this, your Highness, I truly am." Yao returned his embrace, then pulled away, cupping his face between his hands in a rare show of direct tenderness.

Alfred smiled as they left the room to rejoin the Council. As shocking as the afternoon had been, he felt that two of his relationships had strengthened under pressure, and he had a new understanding of his future colleagues. Now he only needed to fix things with his Queen.

* * *

><p>"Arthur, if you don't drink it, I'm going to have to give you an injection and I do not think you will like that." The physician showed him the needle and glass tube and Arthur winced. He'd never had an injection before. The technology was fairly new and the thought of that little metal bit going inside his skin terrified him. He nodded nervously and took the teacup from the tray Anne had set on his lap.<p>

His hands hadn't stopped shaking since he had come to. He didn't remember anything after closing the door, but he'd been told he fainted for a moment. Everything was hazy to Arthur, but he remembered Yao saying something to him, apologizing perhaps, and then fetching the physician when Arthur didn't respond. How could he? He throat felt dry and itchy and his head was pounding from his jawing being clenched, the muscles in his neck straining. The physician had had Ivan move him to his bed and taken his pulse, but Arthur didn't need to be told that it was racing. He felt it, felt the sickly, light flutters that left him breathless and burned his chest. His face and hands felt cold and clammy and he couldn't control the tremors. They would stop for a moment, hands lying in his lap like long, white dead things, things that didn't belong to him, that were not attached to him, but then they would start shaking again and Arthur could do nothing but stare down at them in nervous horror.

Lifting the teacup was nearly impossible, liquid spilling over the edges as the bottom clacked against the tray. Arthur half sobbed at his inability to make his hands function properly, and Anne ended up having to hold the teacup for him while he drank. She petted his hair soothingly while he struggled to finish the entire cup. It tasted like warm poison, and Arthur's stomach clenched even further and threatened to heave. The physician made him lie down and breathe slowly.

"This is going to help your nerves, Arthur. You should begin to feel drowsy in a few minutes. I will visit you again tomorrow morning."

Arthur gripped the bedding with his shaking hands and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would come fast and stay long. His tongue felt numb and a tingling sensation spread up from his belly out to the very tips of this fingers and toes. His hands unclenched and his breathing slowed, but he wasn't yet asleep, and could hear the physician speaking to Anne.

"The shock is making him sick. I am concerned that if he continues this way, his heart will not be able to handle the stress of nerves. If he doesn't seem any more relaxed upon waking, you may give him another dose of the sedative, but no more than three in one day."

"Is he going to be all right?"

"I don't know. There's nothing physically wrong with him. It's his mind, his emotions that are making him ill. I can do nothing but treat the symptoms; he has to cure himself."

Arthur didn't hear Anne's response, lost to a thick, dreamless, artificial sleep.

He slept through to the next morning, waking with a foul taste in his mouth and an unpleasant deadness in his limbs. Anne brought him a tray of food, but his stomach was in such painful knots that he couldn't manage more than a few bites.

"Are you... are you feeling better, Arthur?"

His hands started shaking again. He remembered the pounding and yelling, imagined the disappointed, angry face running after him, felt the clench of his leg muscles as he fought the urge to run again, and then Anne was touching his face and trying to get him to respond, but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything but sit in his own panic and try not to drown. More sedative was forced down his throat and he must have been asleep for the physician's visit because when he came around in the late afternoon, he was in his nightclothes and there was a bandage around his wrist from where he'd been bled. What good that would do, he didn't know, but he tried not to think of anything and instead lie still and manage his breathing.

Yao came to see him before the evening meal. He apologised for everything and assured Arthur that he'd spoken with Alfred and everything was going to be fine. Arthur couldn't believe that. He's seen Alfred's face, he'd heard him yelling, and he knew that he hated him. Arthur had ruined it all again, and now he'd lost Alfred, his close friend, his companion, his King. He hadn't realised how much he cared for him until the care he was given was destroyed. The thought of a cold, angry marriage and bitter rule made Arthur panic again and had to be held down while the physician was fetched, and then a painful, freezing prick was spreading down his arm and he was lost once more.

On the third day, he was able to get up and dress himself and walk around his rooms. He still flinched every time he heard footsteps in the hall, or heard a voice in the garden or Anne knocked on his door, and his hands still shook at odd intervals, but the worst of his nervousness had died down to a light, but constant hum instead of a breathless flood. Anne watched him carefully as he paced around the sitting room, attention never held too long by books or embroidery or looking out the balcony window to the garden. He fidgeted on the settee and tried to make his hands lie still, but she interrupted his efforts with a soft clearing of her throat.

"It's Alfred's birthday today."

Arthur flinched at the mention of his name and shook his head. "No. I don't want to go, if that's what you are getting at."

"But it will be the last day with the Council! Don't you want to say goodbye? And I think it would be a marvellous present if you could make up with Alfred! He's been asking every day if he can see you."

"N-no. I can't- I don't want t-"

"Oh, come now, Arthur!" Anne moved to sit next to him and patted his knee in a motherly fashion. "I know that your betrothal was not announced under the best circumstances, but you've known all along. It can't be that much of a shock to you! Besides, you and Alfred get on so well! Surely it's not all bad."

"We do not get on. Not anymore."

"Arthur, what are you talking about? Of course you do!" Anne leaned into him, whispering playfully. "And I've seen you two together. It's very sweet."

Arthur pulled away. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the way he looks at you! You're both young, of course, but I can tell he just adores you."

"Stop."

Anne laughed and lightly pinched Arthur's cheek. "And you. Always so flustered and protective around him."

"I am not!" Arthur's cheeks felt hot and his hands clenched and trembled.

"Oh, it's all right Arthur! It's perfectly natural you should feel that way! You're going to be married after all-"

"Stop!"

"-and it will so nice to have a loving royal pair again!"

"Be quiet!" Arthur leapt up from the settee with a shout. "It's not any of your business, you can't... you can't... you can't talk to me like that! It's not p-proper. You're too familiar, Anne, and I won't have you talking to me like that!"

"Arthur! I didn't mean anyth-"

"No! Y-you are a servant and I... I'm going to be Queen. That's it. There's nothing sweet or personal or loving in any of this and I command you to stop!"

Anne's mouth hung open, her eyes crumpling in devestation. She looked like she might plead with Arthur, but he gave her a hard look and she composed herself.

"I see. I apologise. I will hold my tongue in the future," she murmured coldly, then stood. "I fear you are too upset. I will get your medicine, _your Highness_." She left the room quickly, brushing tears from her eyes, and Arthur almost reached out for her, but his pride and embarrassment stopped him.

He'd ruined too many relationships in the last few days, with no hope of ever fixing them. What a fine Queen he was turning out to be.

* * *

><p>The final day of Council had arrived, and Alfred's birthday along with it. It would be a modest celebration this year; there was too much risk in having a large gathering when the entire Council was present. A lavish affair would be saved for Alfred's coronation, when more planning and security could be put into place.<p>

Alfred took no joy in watching the preparations for his party; the fragrances coming up from the kitchen didn't excite his appetite like they usually would, the prospect of presents did nothing to cheer him up. He didn't want to celebrate anything at all, not if he couldn't be with Arthur.

He'd tried every day to visit him, but Yao and Anne told him that Arthur wasn't ready to see anyone yet. Alfred had hoped that he just needed some time to think for a while and that he would be better after a good night's sleep. He'd made sure to remind Yao to tell Arthur that he wasn't angry and that he wanted to see him, but he was still barred entrance. A sickening thought picked at the back of Alfred's brain: perhaps Arthur was the one who was angry. Arthur could have been disgusted all along by the prospect of marrying Alfred, and that was why he didn't want to see him. But that couldn't be, not when Arthur had accepted his growing signs of affection, not when he had spoken to him so tenderly in the Council room and almost let Alfred kiss him, not when he was so jealous over Lilli. Alfred's mind ran around in circles between being certain that Arthur hated him and being certain that Arthur loved him, even if he wouldn't admit it.

Alfred was quiet through dinner and through the fireworks display. He thanked everyone profusely, but they knew he was not completely present, and the Council took pity on him in one way or another. Elizaveta and Lilli hugged him, the latter tearfully and still apologetic despite Alfred's assurances that he wasn't mad at her. Ludwig clapped him on the back and gave him a knowing half-smile.

"These things are always difficult. My Queen and I did not have an easy start, either. I was too young to appreciate what marriage meant in terms of royalty."

Alfred tried to just offer his thanks, but he couldn't stop himself from saying, "But it's different. You don't love your Queen; you're not _with_ him."

Ludwig looked down awkwardly and almost replied but he just gave Alfred another pat and a curt nod before returning to Feliciano.

Kiku had watched the exchange silently, but came forward and went on tip toe to kiss Alfred's forehead. It was such an odd gesture from the reserved and physically withdrawn Queen of Hearts, and Alfred was so moved by it that he pulled him into a strong hug. Kiku tensed up for a moment but then he was petting Alfred's hair with stilted, but well-meaning, strokes and saying something about fate and being young and having hope. Alfred was too absorbed in being comforted to understand it all, but he felt a little of the weight lift from his heart as they said their goodbyes.

The Council departed slowly, leaving the gardens to prepare for their journeys home the next morning. Soon, only Yao and Gilbert were left both with a hand on Alfred's shoulders.

"I'd like to have a little chat with the birthday boy, if you don't mind, Yao."

Yao nodded his agreement and Alfred found himself being led down the garden path by the Joker.

"Francis told me about what happened."

"Did you know, too?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever... did you ever talk to Arthur about it? I mean, you and he were close and I wonder if-"

"He doesn't hate you, if that's what you're asking."

Alfred bit his lip and crossed his arms over his stomach. "Then why did he run away?"

Gilbert sighed and puffed out his cheeks, combing a hand through his messy hair. "Arthur's never quite adjusted to the idea of all this, I think. He's not like you; he needs time."

"How much, though?"

Gilbert shrugged and stopped walking to turn to Alfred. "Francis also told me about your, uh, _feelings_. Not that I didn't already know. You're pretty obvious about them."

Alfred was embarrassed, but he nodded. "What can I do, though? I can't see Arthur, and if I can't see him, I can't tell him, and if I don't tell him, he's going to think that I'm angry with him."

"Aren't you, though?"

"Well, yes, but not _at_ him. More like angry at the situation. I- I feel bad that he had to keep this secret for so long, and I wish he hadn't, but I can't be mad at him, not when I..." Alfred trailed off and scratched the back of his neck self-consciously.

"Not when you love him?"

Smiling sheepishly, Alfred nodded. "Yeah. That."

"You kids grow up too fast, you know that?" Gilbert laughed mostly to himself and punched Alfred playfully on the arm. "Well, if you're going to insist on being all adult and sappy about it, you might as well go out and get what you want."

"But what if Arthur doesn't feel the same way? And how am I supposed to see him?"

"That's a risk you have to take, but I wouldn't be too worried about it. Like everything else, Arthur's going to deny and deny until he has nothing left to protect himself with. Love's a scary thing. Go easy on him. Now, as for how you can see him, I suggest some creative problem solving."

"Like what?"

Gilbert gestured vaguely upward and Alfred followed the motion of his hand to see that they were beneath the narrow balcony outside Arthur's room.

"How well do you climb trees?"

Alfred grinned. "Better than I knock down doors."

* * *

><p>Alfred waited until after all the lamps in the palace had been extinguished and all the servants had finished cleaning and returned to their quarters. Slipping on his trousers and a loose shirt, he tied laces of his boots together and hung them around his neck. The toes would be too big to fit in the squares of the trellis outside his window, and that was the only way he would be able to climb down into the garden.<p>

The window swung open with a soft _snick_. Alfred had never been afraid of heights, but, now that his legs were dangling into the open air, his heart was thudding nervously. He scooted his way along the windowsill until he could grab the trellis with one hand and place his right foot onto one of the lattices. Counting to three, he pushed off the sill and scrambled to catch hold completely. The trellis creaked under his weight, and Alfred held his breath. Nothing snapped or broke, so Alfred began his slow descent, mindful of weak lattices and sharp bits of thorn and stem.

Despite the dark, the night was warm and the air was thick and still. Alfred put his boots on clumsily and ran down along the garden wall until he was outside Arthur's window. He took a handful of pebbles from the flower beds and began tossing them one by one at the balcony. Waiting a minute or two in between tosses, countless pebbles clinked against the glass of the windowpane or the stone of the wall.

Alfred tossed one last pebble, and heard a sharp "Ow!" Arthur appeared and leaned over the railing, rubbing his forehead.

"Why are you throwing rocks at me!"

"I'm not throwing them at you, I'm throwing them at your window so you'll come out!"

"Well I'm out! What do you want?"

Alfred shuffled his feet. "Can we talk?"

Arthur shook his head and backed away. "Er, no, I don't think-"

"No! We're talking. Right now!"

"I'm not having a shouting match in the garden in the middle of the night with you, Alfred!"

"Then I'm coming up!"

Ignoring Arthur's protests, Alfred climbed up the tree next to balcony, bark cracking and sticky with sap and nectar from the fleshy white flowers blooming between the leaves. It smelled like a heavy cologne, and Alfred's head was spinning by the time he made it high enough to jump onto the balcony. He lost his footing and tripped upon landing, but Arthur caught him and set him up straight.

"What are you doing! You could have broken your neck!"

"I don't care!" Alfred adjusted his clothing. "I had to see you!"

Arthur made a frightened noise and backed away until his back bumped the railing. The balcony was almost too small for two people, and Alfred tried to block the door back into Arthur's room.

"Alfred, if this is about that happened, then I'm sorry! I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, but I couldn't and I'll understand if you're upset with me, but please just let me go! I can't bear it!" Arthur was tearing at his own hair, hands shaking.

"Hey, no, I'm not upset, I lo-"

"And you were saying all those things about marriage and love and your Queen and it was me the whole time and I felt so guilty because it's just me, Alfred, I'm all you get and I've lied to you and now you hate me and I-"

"Stop." Alfred grabbed Arthur's flapping hands and gripped them tightly until they stopped shaking. "What do you you're all I get? Arthur, did you honestly think everything I said would stop being true just because _you're _going to be Queen?"

Arthur didn't understand for a moment, but then he gasped and tried to pull his hands away. "You don't mean that. You don't."

"I'm telling, you right now, that I do. I- I love you, and uh what I'm saying is..." Alfred got down on one knee and looked up into Arthur's panicked face. "What I'm asking is: will you marry me?"

Alfred was expecting there to be more denial and for Arthur to pull away or hit him or cry. He could have handled all those things. He was not expecting Arthur to start laughing, but he was, doubled over so that his forehead was bumping the top of Alfred's head, laughing so hard that he couldn't breath properly, and Alfred had no idea what to do. Arthur pulled up at him desperately, unable to put any force behind the motion because he was so weak from his crowing.

"Alfr-Alfred, you h-have to get up, I can't...I can't look at you l-like this!"

"No!" Alfred pulled Arthur down until he as kneeling on the balcony as well and held Arthur's face between his hands. "I'm being serious!"

Arthur giggled nervously a few more times, but he sobered up as Alfred continued to look at him, and brushed a lock of hair behind Arthur's ear and rubbed his thumb along his cheekbone.

"You're thirteen years old, Alfred, I can't-"

"Fourteen."

"Still, I can't-"

"You don't love me, too? You don't want to get married?"

"I'm not saying that. Oh! I'm not saying I want to, either, I just can't think of you like that right now. I don't know."

Alfred leaned in, still cupping Arthur's face, leaned so close that he could taste Arthur's breath and almost feel the tingle of his lips on his own. Arthur inhaled sharply, but didn't move away, eyes slipping closed instinctively, and as much as Alfred wanted to finish the motion and claim his long-awaited kiss, he held himself back.

"Are you sure? Are you sure you don't think about this, too?"

Arthur let out a tiny groan and Alfred almost lost his mind trying not to kiss him.

"No... I don't know... I just want..." Arthur licked his bottom lip, and Alfred was so close he could just barely feel the wet tongue drag against the hair's breadth between them.

"What do you want?" Alfred had no idea what he was doing, but his voice dropped to a whisper and he tilted his head ever-so-slightly to the side. "Tell me."

Arthur took another shuddering breath, and Alfred thought he was going to kiss him, but then Arthur was holding Alfred's wrists and opening his eyes and pulling away.

"Time. I want time."

"How much?"

"I don't know... a year? Two?"

"But I'll be crowned by then and we'll have to get married soon after!"

Arthur extricated himself fully from Alfred's grasp and sat back on his heels. "It wouldn't be fair to you. I don't feel the same way you do." He looked shyly at Alfred. "Not yet, anyway."

"But you will?" Alfred half-begged hopefully.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore! I don't know, I just-"

"Francis said we should be honest. That honest love is the best kind."

"Francis?"

"Yeah, but forget about him! I just want us to start over."

Arthur shook his head, but reached out and tentatively out his fingers on Alfred's cheek. Alfred fought to not lean into the touch and grin like a fool, knowing he needed to stay serious and focused if they were ever going to make any progress.

"I don't think we can. We've known each other too long, and this has been a secret too long."

"Then let's just start honestly. We don't have to forget everything that happened, but we can try to..."

"Try to fall in love?" Arthur removed his hand and clenched it awkwardly in his lap.

"If you'll let me. If... if you'll let us?"

"You're too young to talk like this. You have no idea what it all means."

"Yeah, well, neither do you, so I guess it doesn't matter, does it?"

If Arthur was offended, he didn't show it, just sighed heavily again, fidgeting fingers starting to shake again. "What do you want to do now?"

"Just this." Alfred stood and took one of Arthur's hands in his own. He bowed showily with a cheeky grin and kissed the back of Arthur's shaking hand. "Hello, name is Alfred and I am going to be the King of Spades. I am delighted you have come to court."

Arthur stared up at Alfred for a moment, then a brilliant smile broke out across his face. He rose to his feet as well, and bowed. Alfred noticed that as he spoke, his hand stopped shaking.

"My name is Arthur Kirkland, and I am going to be the Queen of Spades. Thank you so much for having me."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for sticking it out this long. It all gets more mushy from here... **


	14. Chapter 14

"So. Now you both know."

Arthur and Alfred sat side by side across from Yao, Alfred looking straight ahead and proud, while Arthur looked at the table and thumbed the edge of it. He had come to terms with his future position, he was perfectly capable of dealing with the reality of marrying Alfred and he was even the tiniest bit excited by Alfred's affection for him; but now they had to talk about it, and Arthur hated talking about things. He would have much preferred for there to be some silent agreement amongst the three of them that everything was as it should be and they could continue on living as before. Arthur would do what was expected of him when it was expected, but until then, he saw little good or comfort in discussing it further.

Yao, naturally, was of a different opinion. "Where do we go from here?" Arthur felt the question was mostly rhetorical, but Alfred had an answer.

"Forward. We go forward." Alfred beamed and glanced at him and Arthur knew he was referring to their secret agreement. Arthur wasn't sure what to do with a more mature and focused Alfred; he was accustomed to having to scold him and chase after him and worry about him, but now he only had to concern himself with seeing Alfred as an adult. He wasn't one, of course, not yet, and Arthur didn't even think of himself as grown-up despite being of age. Adulthood was still some far-off incident, something that would happen in a marked and definite way, but certainly not for years and years.

"Obviously, yes." Yao laced his fingers together and leaned into them, lower face hidden, and eyes unreadable. He gaze shifted to Arthur. "But what I meant is that we have some decisions to make."

"I don't understand."

Arthur cleared his throat and went back to thumbing the carved bits on the table's edge. "I'm of age."

"Oh!" Alfred half-shouted when he understood the situation. "Then that means you can-"

"What are my options?" Arthur looked up and addressed Yao directly.

"Well, there's what's been traditionally done, and what's fallen into custom more recently. For the last one hundred, one hundred and fifty, years or so, it has not mattered which ruler is crowned first. Mostly this was a result of the shift from purely hereditary rule into the system we have now. The King or Queen could step down at any time, independently of one another, or dismiss their Jack at any time. As such, marriage between rulers became a formality only, and since there was no longer a need to produce an heir, the titles are genderless."

"Wait! What would have happened to me if my parents were still alive? You just said that they didn't need to produce an heir, so where would that leave me?"

Arthur hadn't thought of that before, and he eagerly awaited Yao's explanation. Yao sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"This entire situation is an oddity. Your father had no cause to name a successor at the time of his death. It was sudden, and there would have been no reason for him to be concerned with the next king for at least another five years. However, circumstances being what they were, we were forced to abide by laws that have not had any consistent relevance to the Kingdom in generations. Without a named successor, legally the House of Spades was compelled to take your father's next closest male family member as King. Seeing as he had no siblings, that was you."

A thought struck Arthur and before he could think better of it, he blurted out, "Next closest? But wouldn't that be Matthew?"

Yao jolted in small surprise, but nodded. "It would have been, if Alfred had not been born. Alfred's claim to the throne was lent legitimacy because his mother was Queen. Otherwise, yes, Matthew would have been King."

"And now he's no one." It wasn't a question. Arthur knew that Matthew was as good as expendable except for in the highly unlikely case that Alfred should die young. As unpleasant as Alfred dying was to think about, Arthur had a feeling that Yao already had a protocol in place for if it happened, something that would legally keep Matthew off the throne. In a way, Arthur could see why that might be best; Matthew was illegitimate by the old laws and his existence had already caused enough problems for the Kingdom, even if he couldn't be blamed for it. Allowing for even the slightest chance of him becoming King would invite more chaos. But at the same time, this was just another example of how unfairly Arthur's dear friend had been treated and even if Arthur was sure Yao's intentions were good, he hated him for it.

It was obvious that Yao was unsure how to respond. He fidgeted and his face fell, and Arthur enjoyed seeing him suffer for his decisions. His enjoyment was short lived, however, as Alfred spoke again, his voice sounding bitter and small.

"So does that mean that if I had never been born, Arthur would be marrying Matthew?"

Arthur's mouth hung open, and he must have made a little noise of shock, because Alfred was staring at him with a possessive hardness. He shut his mouth and tried to manage his expression, but it didn't stop his face from getting hot. Arthur wished that he could lay his head on the cool surface of the table and possibly bash against it a few times; the thought of marrying Matthew was embarrassing and made him feel inexplicably jittery.

"Ah, no, well, maybe... things would have been so drastically different that I can't say for sure whether or not Arthur would have been chosen as Queen. It could have been anyone, really, it's not as if-" Yao shook his head as if to rid himself of the path of thoughts he had been heading down and placed his hands firmly on the table. "There's no point in discussing things that have not been, but to answer your _original _question, your Highness, you would have had a normal, albeit well-off, life after your parents resigned."

Neither Alfred nor Arthur had a response to that, and they sat absorbed in their own thoughts. Arthur had the brief urge to reach out and comfort Alfred, but he wasn't sure what he needed comforting over; his parents still would have been estranged if they had lived, and a normal life was not always a good one. In the end, Arthur thought it best to clench his hands in his own lap and let Alfred alone.

"But we still have not settled the matter of Arthur's coronation." Yao smoothed the sleeves of his robe aggressively, as if the action could smooth the rapidly fracturing atmosphere. "As of now, we could formally announce the betrothal by having Arthur crowned Queen, and then of course, sealing the contract once his Highness turns sixteen."

"Or?" Arthur hoped the second option was less intimidating.

"Or, we abide by the oldest tradition which requires that the King be in place before the Queen. We would wait until his Highness was sixteen, formally announce the betrothal at the time of coronation, wait the customary six months, then you would become Queen through marriage."

"Why would we have to wait six months, though?" Alfred whined.

"It's superficial and barbaric if you ask me, but originally it was because the betrothed would not meet one another until the day of the announcement. The waiting period was to allow the King to decide whether or not he actually desired his bride; he could reject the whole thing and start over if he wanted, as awful as that sounds. After a time it just became more of a fashionable "engagement" period, like the common people have."

All this marriage talk was making Arthur feel sick to his stomach. It was too complicated and too personal, and yet it was being treated in the most impersonal fashion because of status. Yao talked of such things so bluntly and indifferently; not that Arthur wanted to explore his options on an emotional level, but he was feeling like an item, a bargaining chip, some abstract concept of "Queen", instead of an actual person.

"So, what do you want to do, Arthur?"

"Either way, it will be at least two years until we have to get married, correct?"

"Yes."

"And he only difference is how soon I become Queen?"

Yao nodded.

"What would you have done if Alfred hadn't found out about the betrothal?"

"I would have announced it at the proper time, and then we still would probably have had to make this decision. It's entirely up to you at this point, Arthur."

Arthur bit the inside of his cheek and glanced and Alfred, who was openly watching him for a reaction, before letting his eyes slip back to the surface of the table. He smoothed his palms over it, tapping his fingers as he prepared himself to be honest and possibly upset Yao.

"I know this makes your duties more complicated, Yao, but I'd rather not be crowned just yet. With everything happening so suddenly, I don't think I could, that is... I don't think I'm ready."

Yao pursed his lips. "Do you feel that you are ill-prepared for your duties?"

"No! It's not that! You've taught me so much, and the Council has taught me so much. It's not that I don't think I could do it on a purely professional level, it's just that I don't think _I'm_ ready." Arthur took a deep breath and shook his head. "It seems silly to feel like this after all these years but I don't want to let you or Alfred or the Kingdom down, and I think that if I'm going to be a good Queen, then I need a little more time. "

Surprisingly, Yao didn't look or sound disappointed, instead nodding and rapping his knuckles across the table twice. "I understand. It would be unfair to expect you to be comfortable in ruling when so much has only recently come out. I agree that you do not know enough or have enough experience to be the most effective ruler at the moment." He stood and pushed his chair in with a self-directed nod. "What I would like to do, however, is include you, both of you actually, in more of the running of this Kingdom. You'll have no legal authority, of course, but I can oversee what you do and put my signature on it, as it were. Does that sound reasonable?"

"Yes!" Alfred and Arthur both replied, though Arthur's was more a sigh of relief and Alfred's a whoop of excitement.

"Excellent. Then I will give you gentlemen the rest of the day off. We will begin work next week. For now, I think we all need a rest from so much... activity." He departed as the two boys gave their thanks and were left alone.

Alfred turned sideways in his chair, throwing an elbow over the back of it and then leaning his cheek on his arm. "Two years, huh?"

"It doesn't seem like much time does it?"

"Really? It seems like ages to me!"

Arthur laughed. "Well, that's only because you're far too excited about-". Catching himself and feeling painfully self-aware, Arthur tried to flatten a piece of hair behind his ear. "You know..."

"Yeah, I do." Alfred took Arthur's hand and pulled it away from his fussing, letting the fingertips nestle gently and unassumingly in his palm. "And, yeah, I am."

They had been friends for far too long and held hands far too often before for Arthur to find an excuse to shake Alfred off, so he allowed their palms to slip fully together and fingers to arrange themselves comfortably. "Alfred, you're very sweet, and especially sweet to me, and it's not that I don't appreciate it, but-"

"Do you remember when I got mad at you for liking Matt so much?" Alfred was staring at their hands with a pained expression.

"When? On my birthday? That was so long ago Alfred, it doesn't-"

"I threw a giant fit and I made you promise you liked me best and then I made you hold my hand all night?"

"Yes, I remember." Arthur gulped awkwardly, not liking or understanding where Alfred was going with all this.

"That's all I could think about just now. When Yao was talking about my parents and... I don't know, I just remembered it and I'm kind of sorry that I was such a brat about it, but at the same time... I don't know." Alfred's brow furrowed even more, as if concentrating on their hands was the most important thing in the world, and he squeezed down a little. It wasn't enough to be uncomfortable, and Arthur thought it might even feel nice if circumstances were different. A small part of Arthur's brain flared up in shock that he had just thought about wanting to hold Alfred's hand more often, but the majority of his thinking power was channelled toward finding a way to comfort Alfred.

"I still do, Alfred. I still "like you best", as you say." Arthur mumbled out his offering, but Alfred still looked up at him with such a relieved expression that he might as well have shouted it.

"Do you?"

"He's just my friend." It it didn't feel right to say that Matthew was _just _anything to Arthur, but it was close enough to true that he only felt a tiny twinge of guilt in saying it.

Alfred smiled crookedly and Arthur's stomach did an idiotic flip. "And I'm not? I'm more than that?"

Arthur dropped his hand away from Alfred's and stood, putting the chair between himself and Alfred's hungry look. "Don't do that. Don't make me say that, please."

"Fine, fine." Alfred stood as well and leaned over to kiss Arthur's cheek. "Even if it's true."

* * *

><p>"And the worst of it is, I think the fool already thinks he loves me."<p>

Matthew glared heavily at Arthur before rolling his eyes and leaning farther over the wooden fence, clicking his tongue and reaching his hand out to tempt the yearlings inside closer.

"What was that look for?"

"Nothin'. But for someone so smart, you sure are an idiot, Arthur."

"How's that, then?"

Giving up on the horses, Matthew blew some hair out of his eyes and turned around to lean his elbows up against the fence. "I've been telling you for ages that this was coming, but you kept brushing it off."

"Well, I didn't think you meant _love_ love, I just thought you meant..."

"What? What other meaning does love have other than love?"

"Plenty!" Arthur huffed and crossed his arms over a fencepost, leaning his chin into the cradle they made. "Love can be anything! It can be parent and child or siblings or...", he glanced at Matthew, "... or _friends_. You never specified!"

"I didn't think I had to! Alfred's not exactly shy about what he's thinking or feeling. I've had to tell him to shut up a few times before it made me sick! I assumed he'd be the same way around you."

"Well, he's not!" Arthur was just short of being exasperated enough to stamp his foot, but his voice sounded too whiny for his liking. "And what's he been saying to you, anyway?"

Scratching at the back of his neck, Matthew became highly interested in the state of his boots. "Nothing that bears repeating."

"No, tell me!"

"It's embarrassing, though!"

"All the more reason you should tell me!" Arthur could see Matthew wasn't going to budge and give up Alfred's secrets, so he tried a different tactic. "He's jealous of you, you know."

Matthew pushed himself up and backwards until he was sitting on top of the fence and swung his feet. "Yeah, he told me that, too."

"What?"

"I don't know why, though. I'm not interested in you like that." Matthew shrugged. "He just doesn't know any better, I guess."

"You're not?" Arthur tried to make it sound like a statement instead of a question, but mostly it just sounded needy and pitiful.

Matthew laughed and squinted down at him through the mid-afternoon sun. "No! I mean, you're great and all, but c'mon... and it's not like you think about me like that either." Arthur didn't say anything and turned his attention back to the horses. "Right?"

Making what he hoped was a casual gesture, Arthur huffed again. "Of course not. That is, I suppose you're kind and good looking from a certain distance, _maybe_, but I hardly notice, no."

"Wow, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Arthur discarded tact in favour of sticking his tongue out at Matthew and they both laughed.

"It's just not easy with Alfred. Not like this."

"It shouldn't be. It wouldn't be worth anything if you didn't have to work at it."

"Ugh!"

"Do you... do you care about him though?"

Half smacking himself on his cheek, Arthur cupped his chin in his hand and leaned wearily against the fence post. "It's just that he's so much younger!"

"Four years is nothing!"

"There is a vast difference between thirteen and seventeen."

"But it doesn't seem so bad when it's fifteen and nineteen. Or twenty-four and twenty-eight. Or eighty-eight and ninety two!"

"Oh dear, who's taught you how to count?" Arthur said dryly, and Matthew tried to playfully kick at him from his perch. "You really don't think it matters?"

"Not at all. I mean..." Matthew looked away and Arthur could have sworn he was turning pink, but they'd been out in the sun for so long he couldn't be sure."... well, someone could be twice your age and be all kinds of wonderful and then it wouldn't really matter would it? Not if you both cared about each other. So four years isn't so much when you think about it."

"I suppose not." Arthur made a disgusted noise through his nose and turned to Matthew. "I still don't want to kiss him, though."

Matthew just laughed and jumped down from the fence. "I'm not sure you're going to get much of a choice. He's stubborn. And strong."

"I can defend myself, thank you very much."

After a moment of looking back out over the enclosure, Matthew stood close and nudged Arthur with his shoulder. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course!"

"Okay, well, this is about you, sort of, and I'll kind of be ruining a surprise, but I think it will make my point, so..."

"So, tell me!"

Matthew pointed out to the middle of the field with one hand shaded over his eyes. "You see that colt that looks bigger than the rest?"

"The blonde one?" Arthur didn't know anything about horse colourings or markings, and he hoped Matthew wouldn't make fun of him for using such an obtuse term.

"Yes, and it's funny you should say that. Alfred talked Yao into saving that one for you, special. It's going to be your birthday present next year, so act surprised."

Arthur stood on the bottom rung of the fence and leaned over, squinting to get a better look at the colt. It was a lovely looking animal, graceful and more lively than most of his penmates.

"Do you like him?"

"He's gorgeous, but I don't understand what I've done to deserve him."

"The reason he picked that one was because he said the coat matched your hair colour and that you would look beautiful riding him."

"You're making that up."

"I promise I'm not. You can ask Gilbert the next time he visits."

"Gilbert? When did all this happen?"

"During Council. Gilbert set up some races and Alfred tagged along and then they stayed for a while afterwards and we all got to talking."

Hopping down from the fence Arthur rounded on Matthew only half-jokingly. "Yes, I heard all about your and Gilbert's shenanigans while he was here!"

Matthew held up his hands in defence and cowered into his shoulders. "It was completely innocent! We just went into the city with some of the other hands and he took us to an inn and we had a few drinks and that was all!"

"I know what goes on in places like that!"

"No! It's not what you think! He took us to a nice, respectable place, and paid for everything! Nothing dirty happened, I swear. And the race was just for fun. I didn't think I was going to win! I didn't want to take his money, really, but I beat him and he wouldn't take no for an answer!"

"Wait! _You _raced Gilbert?"

"Yeah! He challenged me, just as a joke, but then he put money on it." Matthew tucked his hair behind his ears and bit his lip. "I think he let me win. He's too good of a rider, even for me."

"Somehow, Alfred failed to mention all this," Arthur said bitterly and crossed his arms.

"He was probably too excited about the horse," Matthew teased with a nod of the head toward the field, and a crooked smile that looked far too much like Alfred's for Arthur's liking. "You do like him, don't you?"

"Yes, Matthew, the horse is wonderful. I've already said as much."

"No, no!" Matthew chuckled and swatted Arthur's arm. "I meant Alfred."

"Oh." Arthur busied himself with adjusting the cuffs of his shirt and picking imaginary lint from his stomach. "I don't dislike him. He's... pleasant. Far too sweet to me, I think, but pleasant."

Matthew grinned at him wryly and shook his head.

"What?"

"Your voice is doing that thing where it gets all high because you're trying to tell the truth and lie at the same time."

"Ugh!" Arthur threw his hands into the air with forced dramatic exasperation. "I don't have to stay here and listen to these accusations or submit to interrogation! Good day to you, sir!"

Matthew laughed along with him, and waved goodbye, but stopped Arthur short of leaving. "Can I be serious for a minute though? I know no one can make you feel anything, but Arthur, at some point you're going to have to decide what you want and you're going to have to work to get it. Alfred may be stubborn and forward, but he's young and he has no idea what he's doing. Don't make him suffer just because you're scared. He is too, I promise. Probably too scared to make any advances, despite all his big talk. So, I'm not saying you _have _to love him or anything, but just... if you do, don't wait for him to figure it out. He's an idiot."

Arthur was quiet and felt his stomach churn and heat up with some chaotic energy. His face felt warmer as well, and he knew he'd been out in the sun too long. Nodding, he offered Matthew a shy smile. "I think I may have just realized that I'm an idiot, too."

Matthew returned the smile and leaned back casually on the fence, pretending to examine his fingernails. "Oh, I've known that for years."

* * *

><p>The summer ended with little fanfare. With Council so recently over, there was little work to be done politically, save for the few domestic issues that arose occasionally. Arthur found himself with more time to spare than Alfred, who was more often than not shadowing Yao as he managed finances and read petitions and did all manner of deeply important and staggeringly boring work. Alfred seemed to enjoy it, however, especially anything having to do with numbers. Yao quickly figured out that he could let Alfred loose on financial problems and he'd have a solution within the hour, and with a little double checking and discussion, they made more progress together than Yao ever had alone.<p>

Feeling a tad useless, Arthur took to writing letters. If diplomatic relations with the other Kingdoms was going to be his responsibility, there was no sense in waiting for something to drastic to happen to establish contact. It was difficult at first to know what to say or how to address the other Queens, but Arthur settled on a polite and light-hearted approach. He knew that he needed their friendship and trust in order to have a respectful working relationship, but being unaccustomed to having many friends, Arthur hoped that his efforts would come off as genuine and not as foolish or self-serving.

The first reply came a month later, from Kiku, who was cryptic as always, but at least did not seem put out, and invited Arthur to write more often and to be sure to include updates about Yao and Alfred's well-being. Arthur obliged, and after a time, he began to look forward to Kiku's letters. He had been on the throne longer than any of the other Queens, and Arthur felt like he was learning so much even if Kiku said very little. It was an art, reading between the lines of pleasantries and delicate handwriting, but Arthur knew it would pay off the next time they met in person.

Lilli's letters were short, and often apologetic. Although he had no honest love for her, Arthur bore her no ill-will and had more than forgiven her, but the foolish girl seemed determined to torture herself over what had happened. It was with a self-deprecating grin that Arthur realised he cared not for what Lilli did, so long as she stayed far away from Alfred and married Francis like she was supposed to. In his most truthful moments with himself, Arthur could admit he had been and was still jealous of Lilli, but what mattered now was that she was back in her Kingdom, and Alfred was here with him. Occasionally Francis would slip a note in for Arthur, usually just some friendly greetings and well-wishes, or a funny story he thought Arthur might like. As intimidated by Francis as he was, Arthur was beginning to see through to his true personality, most of which was endearing, some of which was abhorrently crass and irritating. Francis urged Arthur to ask Alfred to write to him, and Arthur did so, but whether or not anything came of it, he didn't know.

Queen Elizaveta's letters were infrequent due to distance and the travelling hardships of her country, but she made up for it by making them fantastically long. They were like the adventure novels Arthur still had hidden beneath his bed; filled with intrigue and mystery and dramatic tales, half of which Arthur dared to think Elizaveta was making up. She made her country seem like such a lively and interesting place, full of adventurous people, and Arthur found himself looking forward to the next time the Clubs would host the Deck Council just to see if it was all true. Sometimes she folded odd little presents into her letters- a white dove feather she found on a walk, paper cut outs, pieces of ribbon that she said "reminded her of Arthur", and once a tiny white flower, pressed and dried between a sheet of tissue paper. Elizaveta wrote that it only grew within the borders of the Kingdom of Clubs, and it was one of the few flowers that grew there at all. Arthur put the flower, cradled gently in its tissue paper, in the trinket drawer of his music box, along with all the other things Elizaveta had sent him. Smiling, he thought that maybe she was just as lonely and desperate for an outlet as he had been as a child, and the strange gifts and exaggerated stories were her way of reaching out. He looked forward to her letters most of all, not because they were educational or beneficial to the House of Spades, but because he felt closer and closer to the eccentric Queen, a woman he had far underestimated and vastly misunderstood.

As much as Arthur's relationships the other Queens were thriving, his relationship with Anne had continued to wither. She barely spoke to him, only asking if he needed anything else after her basic duties were done for the day, and never responding unless to a direct question. Arthur had apologized, and sincerely meant it, and Anne had said she understood, but still nothing changed. She often asked Arthur if she could be dismissed early if he had no need of her, and he obliged, and would watch as she walked out of the side courtyard down into the back alleys of the city, towards her own home and husband and children, eager to be rid of the palace and eager to be rid of Arthur. He had no idea what he needed to do to win her trust and affection back, but in the meantime he could do nothing but be civil and show her just how much he missed the way things had been.

Arthur had been so caught up in his own problems, and Alfred so busy helping Yao, that they had barely had any time to see one another. There were lessons, of course, but those were becoming infrequent as Yao shifted the focus from academics to real world learning. They saw each other at meal times, and usually in the evening before bed, but other than that they had been separated by duty. Arthur wondered if this is what it would be like when they were crowned and married, and he was chagrined at the thought that it would be even worse once they took on their full responsibilities and that he missed the simple pleasure of talking with Alfred or going on walks and getting lost in play for hours.

Perhaps it was this separation that caused the changes in Alfred to go unnoticed to Arthur's eyes for so long, or perhaps it was simply that Arthur hadn't cared to see them at all, but one evening over supper he looked up and hardly recognized the person sitting across from him. Arthur had gone through a late growth spurt in the fall, but it was nothing compared to Alfred's. He looked broader in the shoulders and was finally growing into the size of his hands and feet, no longer an awkward, pudgy thing on stilts, but the semblance of a man. He wasn't one, not remotely, but his jaw was beginning to square and Arthur could tell by the beginnings of a fresh shadow on his upper lip that Alfred was shaving. He still had blemishes and was a ways off from losing all his softness, but for the first time Arthur didn't think he was just sweet-looking. He thought he was _attractive_.

Arthur dropped his fork and it clattered noisily onto his plate.

"Arthur?" Yao stopped to stare at him, his own fork halfway to his mouth.

"Are you all right?" Alfred cocked his head to the side with a bemused expression.

And his voice. That had grown up too, to something between child and man, lower and smoother and richer and Arthur couldn't do anything but gawk with his hand still frozen mid-air and his face turning bright red because he'd been a complete idiot and missed everything and everything had suddenly become beautiful.

"You look like you've seen a GHOST!" Alfred's voice cracked wildly high on the last word, and he clapped a hand over his mouth in mortification.

They all went still, Arthur with his mouth open and hand raised, Yao with his forkful of food still halfway to its destination, and Alfred who had somehow managed to out-blush Arthur and was squeezing his own face hard enough that it was going white beneath his fingertips.

Yao burst out laughing, braying so hard he had to back his chair away from the table to bend over and hug himself. Alfred's shoulders started shaking and he tried so hard not to laugh that he snorted and Arthur could contain himself no longer. They laughed themselves into exhaustion, and Arthur was wiping the corners of his eyes because he couldn't seem to stop tearing up. He half-sobbed and half-laughed until his stomach hurt too much to continue, grateful that neither Alfred or Yao asked him if he was all right again.

He was about as far from all right as he had ever been, but this time, it felt wonderful.

* * *

><p>Alfred was locked up the with physician and the glass maker again. This was the third appointment in as many weeks, and Arthur had no idea what they were doing. He knew that Alfred needed spectacles like the Jack of Clubs had, but he didn't understand the process. He'd always thought that they just put some bits of glass into a metal frame and that was it and it would magically make the wearer's eyesight better. Instead it seemed to be a lot of staring at letters on pieces of parchment and trying not to blink while the physician tried to measure bits of one's eye and wrote down complicated numbers and then having drops put in that made everything big and blurry.<p>

Arthur only knew this because he'd had to undergo the indignity of of having his eyes examined as well. Yao said they might as well check his vision for any irregularities and get it taken care of then wait for Arthur to notice a problem. Arthur insisted he could see perfectly fine, and was quite smug about it when the physician verified as much. Alfred wasn't so lucky, however, and the physician kept coming back with different bits of glass lens to see what would work.

Sitting in the front room of his chambers, Arthur was preoccupying himself with a book, almost dozing off in the warmth provided by the fire Anne had lit in the hearth before departing for the day. The book was just slipping through his fingers and his chin was sinking towards his chest when there was a light, rapid knocking at the door.

"Arthur, are you in there?"

"What? Yes! Uh, yes, come in!"

Alfred entered with his hands behind his back and kicked the door shut behind him. He was chewing his lip and looked on the verge of tears, and Arthur stood with the instinct to wrap his arms around him, even if he never got as far as actually doing so.

"What's the matter? What's happened?"

"D-don't laugh, all right?"

"At what?"

Hands fumbling nervously, Alfred unfolded a pair of wire-frame spectacles and hooked them over his ears glumly, pushing the bridge up his nose with a sad sigh. His cheeks were sucked in from gritting his jaw and he looked everywhere but at Arthur.

"Oh."

"They look awful don't they? I look so stupid!"

"No! They... er... they look nice." Arthur shoved his hands in his pockets. "You look... good. You look good."

"Really?"

They did look good. Square and silvery, the frames obliterated any of the childishness left in Alfred's face. Arthur was sure it would return as soon as Alfred smiled, but he looked mature and elegant now as he pouted at the floor. Arthur's heart skipped a little beat to see him looking so gentlemanly, and he couldn't help it as he reached out and nudged Alfred's chin up.

"They look marvellous. Dashing, even."

Alfred laughed and brushed away Arthur's hand. "You're just saying that- whoa!" He suddenly took Arthur's face between his hands and opened his eyes wide. "Whoa!"

"What are you doing?" Arthur grunted as he tried to pull away, but then Alfred was gently touching the tops of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose and it was such a peculiar gesture that Arthur stopped moving.

"You have freckles! I never saw them before, but you have them!"

Arthur cleared his throat in discomfort, but let Alfred continue prodding at his face. The tiny spots were a point of vanity for Arthur, and he spent too many mornings trying to scrub them away, even if he knew they would fade over time.

"I thought you couldn't see far away things."

"That was the worst, but everything was kind of blurry." Alfred shrugged, then went back to petting Arthur's freckles. "They're so light! I guess that's why I couldn't see them."

"They're just freckles, Alfred, honestly. Plenty of people get them."

"But yours are beautiful!"

Stomach doing a fragile somersault, Arthur grabbed Alfred's wrists and pushed them away. "They're silly little sunspots. There's nothing beautiful about them. They're common."

Alfred altered Arthur's grip so that he could hold both his hands and grinned. "Nothing about you is common. Or silly."

Where he was learning to talk like that, Arthur had no clue. Well, perhaps he did, but he didn't want to believe that Alfred was being coached long-distance by Francis, even if the words did sound like something smooth and sweet that would come out of the King of Diamond's mouth. Alfred lacked some of the finesse, but none of the sincerity, and Arthur licked and pressed his lips together bashfully. The spectacles made Alfred's eyes seem larger and bluer and deeper and brighter and Arthur leaned forward, wanting so badly to do something that would rid Alfred's mouth of its merry curve. He might have succeeded if the spectacles had not slipped a tiny bit down Alfred's nose and he had pulled away to push them back into place.

"Well, how about this? If my freckles aren't silly, then neither are your glasses," Arthur asserted after he regained the ability to speak. "Deal?"

Ignoring the offered handshake, Alfred kissed Arthur swiftly on each cheek and on the tip of the nose, laughing when Arthur wiped away the feeling with the back of a hand.

"Deal."

* * *

><p>"It's freezing! Can we please go back inside?" Arthur shivered violently and stuck his hands into his armpits. It had started snowing only minutes earlier and Alfred had dragged him from the warmth of the fireplace in the parlour to inspect the frigid fluff.<p>

"But it's the first snow of winter! It's the best one!" Alfred laughed and craned his head back to the sky with his mouth open, trying to catch the flakes on his tongue, but mostly looking foolish.

Arthur didn't understand what was so good about it being the first snow other than that it was late this year, but he put up with it and smiled; it was worth braving the cold to see Alfred spinning around and laughing and batting at the snowflakes. He twirled around in it for a few minutes more while Arthur trembled and bounced to keep warm, and his face was gorgeously flushed by the time he returned to simply watch the lazy patterns floating down from the sky. Alfred smiled at Arthur, snowflakes melting in his hair, and Arthur smiled back when he was pulled in close to share Alfred's radiating heat. It didn't seem so cold when he had Alfred's arm around him, even less so when both were wrapped around his waist and the only thing keeping them from being nose to nose was Arthur's arms crossed over his chest to keep his fingers warm.

"Hello." Alfred cooed brightly, and Arthur laughed.

"Hello to you. Do you mind me asking what it is we're doing?"

"Keeping warm." Alfred pulled him closer still and Arthur had to lean backwards or else be forced to put his arms around Alfred's neck. "Do you mind?"

"Not really." Arthur felt his chest burst with giddiness at the smile that earned him, but he wiggled his way out of Alfred's arms all the same. "But can we keep warm inside? It's starting to sting."

"Awww, it's not snowing that much!" Alfred had barely finished his sentence when it seemed as though the very heavens themselves opened up and dainty snowflakes turned into freezing sleet. They ran for the palace, going to the kitchen entrance to stomp their shoes and shake the snow off their clothing before ascending back into the parlour. Some of the servants gave them odd looks, but no one said anything, and Arthur found he didn't care what they thought as Alfred took his hand and led him back upstairs.

The fire was still blazing when they returned, and Arthur immediately went to wave his hands in front of it, trying to get some feeling back in his fingertips. Alfred kicked off his boots and watched as Arthur rubbed and clenched and stretched his hands.

"If my fingers fall off, it'll be all your fault!" Arthur teased.

"Here, let me help, then." Alfred took hold of Arthur's wrists and pulled them toward his face. Arthur didn't understand what he was doing, but then Alfred was blowing warm breath on the tips of his fingers and it felt so good that Arthur had to curl his hands into loose fists from the tingling. Before Alfred could succeed in gently prying them open, Arthur cradled his hands to his chest, and shook his head.

"Aren't your hands cold, too?" he asked Alfred and hoped the answer would be yes so he could do something equally strange and perfect.

"You tell me." Alfred moved as though to present Arthur with his hands, but then he lurched forward and put them on the sides of Arthur's neck. Arthur squealed from the cold and shock and hunched his shoulders up, stumbling to get away, but Alfred didn't let him get far before he had him cornered against the sofa and was trying to blow into Arthur's ear.

"Alfred, stop!" Arthur cried between bouts of laughter and squirming, and he accidently brushed his hand along Alfred's ribcage. Alfred shuddered and pulled away, but Arthur returned his earlier attacks and set to tickling him with a devilish grin.

"N-no fair! St-stop I can't brea-breathe!" Arthur managed to push Alfred off the sofa and onto the floor, and he quickly sat on top of him to trap him. The laughter and pleading turned into hollering and whooping and kicking legs and bucking hips and Arthur was holding on for dear life, but still getting enough pokes and prods in that Alfred was rendered breathless and complacent within moments.

Arthur braced himself on his hands and knees, just as tired as Alfred, and panting as he surveyed his conquest. Alfred was an obscene shade of pink and his spectacles were knocked askew, hair sticking up with the remnants of melted snow and static from thrashing his head back and forth on the rug. He looked puffy and sweaty, but something in his contented listlessness was making Arthur's heart beat outrageously and he realized that he was in control. Arthur licked his lips and bent his elbows so that he was hovering just close enough to feel Alfred's rapid breaths on his face, and he was about to go lower when Alfred twitched bodily and pushed him off.

"No, uh, I..." Alfred stammered and crawled back onto the sofa, sitting stiffly and refusing to look down at Arthur who was still knocked sideways on the carpet and feeling quite confused. He waited for further explanation, but none came. Alfred looked miserable and lost and Arthur didn't understand what he had done to elicit such a reaction until he remembered what Matthew had said about Alfred being scared. Maybe Arthur had been the one coming on too strong for once. He was disappointed and left wanting something he didn't even have a proper word to describe.

Standing slowly, Arthur adjusted his clothing and toed off his boots. He cautiously approached the sofa and sat next to Alfred, waiting to see if he would say or do anything. All Arthur heard was a loud gulp and the rustle of fabric as Alfred shifted further into the arm of the sofa. Deciding to act on what he wanted without questioning it for once, Arthur curled his legs up behind him and nestled closer until he could lay his head on Alfred's shoulder.

Alfred inhaled sharply, and Arthur expected to be pushed away, but he felt the long exhale and the relaxation in Alfred's body. Afterwards, the only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fire and the shallow, noisy thumps of Alfred's heart, a sound that made Arthur smile secretly and close his eyes.

* * *

><p>The remainder of winter unfolded in a delicate dance that Arthur was mortified to realize he had never learned the steps to. Arthur was caught between his dignity and his desires; it would be so easy now to forget that he had ever worried about age or status or feeling unsure and just hold Alfred still and kiss him, but a nagging bit of Arthur's mind was warning and reminding him that they were both still inexcusably young. As much as holding back was starting torture him, he was too afraid of ruining the progress they had made to take a risk.<p>

What had grown ever since that night in summer wasn't just some heavy physical craving, but something soft and pretty that Arthur could think about and feel wrapped up in right before he fell asleep or when he daydreamed or when he was lucky enough to make Alfred smile. He felt buoyant, like he could forever be held up just by the tingling in his chest and the warmth in his stomach. They were friends first, able to talk and laugh and work without the haze of romantic attraction to deter them, but the secondary attachment that was strengthening with every shy touch or teasing kiss on the cheek coloured Arthur's imagination in ways he'd never thought possible. He wondered if everyone felt like this the first time they fell in love and then he would get angry with himself for even entertaining the idea of love. However beautiful things seemed in his mind upon waking or when he caught Alfred watching him out of the corner of his eye, it wasn't easy. There were still days when things felt tense for no apparent, or one of them would say something insensitive to the other. Arthur's biting wit sometimes went farther than his hands wanted to, but in the wrong direction, or Alfred would get too frustrated and become crass. Even having lived side by side for so many years, there was a steep learning curve in trying to redefine what they meant to one another.

Arthur acted appropriately surprised when his birthday arrived and hugged Alfred fiercely enough to almost knock him off his feet. Yao just smiled and didn't say anything. Matthew introduced Arthur to his new companion, and promised to include him the rest of the breaking process over the next few years until the colt was old and strong enough to be truly ridden. He'd done an excellent job already, and Arthur could feel his heart melting when the colt approached without fear and demanded affection.

"You have to name him!" Alfred insisted, a ridiculously large grin plastered on his face as he watched Arthur and Matthew.

Arthur shook his head as he stroked the colt's neck. "No, this fellow and I aren't well acquainted enough yet for me to give him the name he deserves."

Granted a new excuse to get out of the palace, Arthur and Alfred took more frequent walks down to the stables that would invariably wander past the orchards and to the lake, more often than not hand in hand or arm in arm. It was almost natural to Arthur now, to be attached to someone and not feel like he was being led or was forced to lead. The contact was platonic most days, but every now and then Alfred would kiss his hand or give him that look that Arthur had come to recognize as adoration beyond friendship, and they would both flush and smile and be silently giddy until they returned to watchful captivity.

The last days of spring swelled with heat and the promise of another long summer, and Arthur was pulled out of bed much too early for his liking to cater to Alfred's newest whim. After begging Matthew to neglect his duties for the day, the trio set off for the lake, fishing gear and blankets in hand. Matthew showed them around to the far shore where the tallest, thickest trees grew and their snaking roots had created a dark well of water, and swore that it was the best place for fishing and swimming. Arthur leaned over the bank and could see the maze descending into the lake, but he couldn't make out the bottom and quickly contented himself with sitting on one of the blankets and reading a book while the two brothers busied themselves with bait and hooks.

Several hours and as many chapters later, no fish had been caught and it was so hot out that everything had gone still. Arthur laid down on his blanket after kicking off his shoes and rolling up his shirt sleeves, staring at the thick green canopy overhead. He recalled the time he'd sworn he'd seen something magical in these woods, and rolled over on his stomach to peer into the bushes behind him with a prickle of hope and paranoia. It had been so long since his Gift had been used that he wondered if he even had it anymore, and that thought made him so sad that he contemplated abandoning the afternoon out of doors to hole back up in his room.

"Nothing's biting." Alfred whined obtusely and Matthew agreed, coming away from the water and leaning his fishing pole against a tree.

"Do you want to go back?" Arthur sat up and tried not to sound too eager, but Alfred shook his head and smiled instead, tapping Matthew's arm and cocking his head toward the lake with a jerk.

"Swim?"

"Yeah, it's too hot."

Arthur could do nothing but sit in growing mortification as both boys stripped down to their undergarments, Alfred making sure to fold his spectacles safely into his bundle of clothing before dipping his toes into the lake.

"Are you both insane?" Arthur screeched and averted his eyes.

"Don't be such a prude, Arthur! It's too hot and I don't want to go back inside yet!"

"Do you even know how to swim!"

"Yeah, Alfred, do you?" Matthew asked with genuine concern.

Alfred shrugged and gave himself enough room for a running start. "We'll find out!"

He barrelled toward the water and jumped in and Arthur leapt to his feet, nervous when the water went still for a few moments before a blonde, wet head was bobbing back to the surface. Alfred sprayed water out of his mouth and tread the water in stilted motions, but seemed to be fine.

"C'mon, it's perfect!"

Matthew didn't need to be asked twice and dove in.

"Aren't you coming in, Arthur?" Alfred called.

"Uh... no, no thank you, it's fine, I don't swim."

"But it's hot out! C'mon, just do it! Nothing's going to happen!"

"It really is nice, Arthur," Matthew put in, but didn't pressure, deciding to dive back down into the water.

Arthur didn't want to be left out, and it was becoming uncomfortably warm, but the thought of taking his clothing off made him nervous. He wasn't as good looking as Matthew or Alfred. He hadn't wanted to look, but it had been nearly impossible and he now he knew just how much he didn't measure up physically. Alfred didn't have as much of the defined muscle that Matthew did in his stomach and arms, but then again, he was younger and didn't work as hard. Still, Arthur's eyes were drawn to the bare skin because it was so new and strange to him. Stranger still was seeing Matthew half-naked; Arthur almost wished that his friend had stayed as shy as he was in childhood, because his casual attitude was making focusing difficult for Arthur now. An odd streak of guilt pulsed in Arthur's belly as he admitted to himself that Matthew was indeed quite good-looking. There was something about the lightness of his hair and the distinct lines of his tan from working in the sun that Arthur found appealing, even when he knew that that train of thought was troublesome.

Chewing his lip, Arthur undid the buttons on his shirt, but left it on, and stepped out of his trousers, pulling the bottom hem of his undergarments down in the silent wish that they were longer and covered more of his skinny legs.

"Are you coming?"

"I don't know, I feel strange doing this. I don't even know how to swim!" Arthur started buttoning his shirt back up. "No, I can't. I can't do it."

"Are you going to make me get out and come get you?"

"What! No! Please, Alfred really-"

But it was too late and Alfred had climbed back onto the grassy shoreline, dripping wet and what little clothing he still had on turned nearly see-through. Arthur tried to dodge him, but wasn't fast enough and his shirt was being pulled over his head and he flinched at the wet skin against him, but Alfred was smiling and laughing and Arthur found he wasn't too terribly frightened anymore.

"Alfred, be nice!" Matthew warned, but Alfred ignored him and lifted Arthur completely off the ground. Arthur kicked his legs and squirmed, but he was being gripped too tightly.

"Let me go! Now! Alfred? Alfred, put me down!"

"Suit yourself!" Alfred chided before tossing Arthur right into the lake and jumping in after.

Arthur held his breath just in time and plummeted into the cool depths of the lake. It was so quiet and peaceful underwater, but the unending darkness made him uneasy and the dispersing bubbles and ripples from his descent, and Alfred's following right after, distorted his view so that he hardly knew which way was up. A tiny burst of panic lit in Arthur's chest and flailed his arms and legs around to propel himself to what he hoped was the surface, and a hand shot out to grab his and pull him toward the light above.

"Are you all right?"

Spluttering and half-sinking again, Arthur latched onto Alfred helplessly. "No! I almost drowned!"

"Oh, you did not!" Alfred bobbed inefficiently as he tried to find a way to support both of their weights and still tread water. "You need to let go of me or we're both going to sink."

"You deserve it after trying to kill me!"

"Arthur, give me your hand." Matthew said, swimming over to the floundering pair with an exasperated sigh.

Arthur did as he was asked and Alfred pried himself free, leaving him feeling exposed and terrified.

"You're fine! Arthur, listen to me! Try to lie on your back."

"What! Why? That sounds like an awful idea!" Arthur choked out between mouthfuls of water.

"No, it's an easy way to float, I promise."

Trusting that Matthew wasn't lying more out of fear than any actual confidence, Arthur rolled himself backwards until his legs came to the surface and he was floating on his back. He didn't let go of Matthew's hand but he smiled and took a deep breath.

"See? That's not so bad is it?"

"No, it's nice, actually." Everything sounded muffled and distorted with the water lapping and Arthur's ears, and he didn't like that his stomach was mostly exposed, but it still felt safer than being upright.

Arthur was too afraid to be by himself for a while, and Matthew and Alfred took turns holding on to him so he wouldn't float away. After a bit, Arthur figured out how to propel himself around and swam with greater confidence. Alfred made fun of him and told him he was doing everything upside and backwards, but any disparaging remarks earned him swift splashes from both Arthur and Matthew.

They passed more time swimming and playing, sometimes in silence and sometimes talking about nothing. Matthew got out of the water first, neglecting to dress himself again in favour of lying on a blanket and dozing off. Growing tired and chilled, Alfred and Arthur followed soon after and the moment Arthur was dry enough, he put his shirt and trousers back on with the hems rolled up. Arthur glared at Alfred until he at least donned his trousers and they basked in the afternoon heat, growing content.

Lying on his stomach with his arms tucked into his chest, Arthur sighed happily when Alfred reached out and stroked gentle, languid circles across his back.

"Sorry. About earlier."

"No harm done," Arthur murmured sleepily, eyes fluttering shut.

"No, I was being an ass." Alfred's petting stopped. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

"Now?"

"Yeah. Please?"

He was too comfortable to want to move, but Arthur was puzzled by the tone of Alfred's voice and strained look on his face, so he agreed.

They walked quietly along the lake-shore, bare feet cushioned by grass and soft dirt, and it came as a relief when Alfred finally slipped his hand into Arthur's. This was normal and comforting, and it made Arthur hopeful that something strange wasn't going on in Alfred's head. They deviated into the woods, and the stillness and heavy quality of the air made Arthur's skin itch and he shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"Hmm? Oh, I don't know."

"How can you not know?" Alfred teased, but stopped and rubbed up and down the bare parts of Arthur's arms. Arthur didn't like the sad, introspective set of his face, and stilled his hands.

"Alfred, what are you thinking about?"

"I was being immature earlier-"

"I told you, I don't mind it wasn't-"

"Hold on let me finish. So it made me think about what you said after the Council. That you needed time because you couldn't see me that way?"

"Oh." Arthur didn't know what else to say and he looked past Alfred's shoulder circumspectly.

"And I was just wondering... I'm going to be fifteen in a couple of months and well... do you still not see me that way? Has anything changed? I mean, I _feel_ like it has, but I need to know for sure if you still think of me as a child, Arthur."

Turning away, Arthur busied himself with plucking leaves off of one of the high bushes. He hadn't thought it necessary to declare that things were different now; he'd assumed and hoped that Alfred would get the hint and move forward with his courtship, but then Arthur remembered Matthew's warning and he mentally scolded himself for being a coward still.

"We do so many things that are not just friendly, Alfred. What do you think?"

"I want to know."

Giving a harsh tug to a branch, Arthur could hear the blood rising in his ears. "I don't think of you as a child. That is, you're young- we both are- but no, it's... it's not like it was."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Do you love me?"

Arthur's stomach plummeted, but he couldn't lie. "No. Not fully. Not yet. But I care for you deeply." He felt more naked now than he had been while swimming and his cheeks burned at the humiliation of having to confess on the spot.

"Oh." Alfred sounded disappointed, but not heartbroken. "Do you remember when I kissed you on your birthday and you got mad at me?"

"Yes, of course, why?" Arthur laughed nervously.

"May I kiss you now?"

Arthur plucked another leaf off the bush and shredded it just to have something to do with hands, watching as the ruined bits floated down in twists and lilts.

"Why are you asking permission?"

He almost jumped when he felt gentle, but assertive, fingers lift his chin, and he pressed his lips together in panic. This was too hard. Meeting Alfred's gaze was too hard, and he didn't want to do it, even if it was making his stomach do tiny hopeful flips and his blood sing in his ears.

"Because I'm trying to deserve your love, not command it," Alfred said, and Arthur realized he was looking up not only because of the slight difference in their heights, but because his knees were threatening to buckle as he swayed inward despite the voice in his head screaming at him to run. He was holding his breath, the burn of it radiating up to his face and searing what little dignity he had left.

Alfred smiled a wayward smile and leaned down, voiced lowered ever so slightly. "So… are you going to let me kiss you or not?"

_Yes_. Arthur could feel the word dancing on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to open his mouth and let it free. He was torn between collapsing into Alfred, burdening him with his weight and weakness again and shoving his way out of his embarrassment and abandoning any needy thoughts racing through his mind.

"No."

Now Alfred did look heartbroken and he stepped back and removed his fingers from under Arthur's chin.

_You're going to have to work for what you want_, Arthur thought to himself and leaned forward and up, one hand going to the back of Alfred's head to pull him down and the other grabbing his bare shoulder for balance. He inexpertly smashed his mouth against Alfred's, jarred by the clink of teeth, his lower lip pinched painfully in between. Arthur was vaguely grateful that Alfred had neglected to put his spectacles back on, angles and noses making this first kiss difficult enough. Caught off guard, Alfred's first instinct was to resist, and he exhaled with noisy surprise into Arthur's mouth, and Arthur pulled away with a cough.

"I'm not going to _let_ you do anything, do you understand?" Arthur asserted when he'd regained his composure, fingers tangling in Alfred's hair and the other hand sliding up to cup the side of his neck tenderly.

Alfred could do nothing but nod in shock until Arthur pulled him back down with more control and kissed him again. Prepared this time, Alfred's hands and lips went into action. He got one hand pressed firmly between Arthur's shoulder blades to crush him even further towards him, the other going to cup Arthur's cheek. They struggled to line themselves up correctly in the frenzy of limbs and shared excitement that this was finally happening, but the Arthur turned his head just so and everything clicked. It was wet and sticky and lacked any finesse or care, but it was theirs and that alone made Arthur's heart soar. He went on tiptoe, not because he had to, but because he felt like he was going to lift right off the ground and float away, and Alfred let him have the upper hand in the disastrous kiss. Arthur took advantage of his submission, drowning in the noisy smack of unskilled lips and the press and drag of his clothed body against Alfred's bare chest and the Alfred's wild breath rolling across his cheek. When he couldn't bear to feel anything more, Arthur rocked back on his heels, satisfied with the dishevelled state of Alfred's hair and thin glistening of saliva on his bottom lip.

"That was-" Alfred's voice cracked from breathlessness.

"Awful. That was awful."

"What?"

Arthur smoothed down Alfred's hair dotingly and smiled coyly at him, but kept his tone of voice stern. "We're going to need much more practice if that is ever going to be effective."

Alfred seemed lost for a moment, but then he understood and didn't even bother trying to make his smile look charming and adult. Instead he looked giddy and out of his mind and said, "I completely agree."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Long chapter filled with garbage fluff to make up for a late update. :|**


	15. Chapter 15

Alfred was thrumming with happy energy. Yao was giving him more responsibilities every day, asking his opinion and discussing important issues instead of simply telling him to sign this or read that. Soon he would be allowed to deal directly with petitioners from the Kingdom, and even if Yao would probably be shadowing him for a while, Alfred was excited to meet his subjects and hear their problems.

He felt good about himself, confident and like he was brimming with purpose. There were fewer days that he looked in the mirror and hated everything he saw or wished he was someone else. A year and the physician's disgusting face crème had done wonders, and while little bits of him were still soft and pudgy, Alfred wasn't so bothered since the rest of him was filling out in a better way. He'd written to the Jack of Diamonds during the winter and asked for any advice on how to further his strength and athleticism, and had been given a list of simple exercises. A few weeks of doing them in the morning and before he went to bed, and Alfred saw exciting changes in his body.

Whether or not Arthur noticed, Alfred couldn't say. He had been so forward and sure during their first kiss that Alfred felt no inclination to try being more aggressive. He assumed that Arthur would continue guiding their courtship, but that turned out to be wishful thinking. In the weeks after the incident at the lake, the only kissing Alfred had done were the chaste pecks on the cheek that he'd had to be satisfied with for a year prior. And sometimes Arthur would look at him with such intensity, like he was trying to solve some important puzzle, and he wouldn't know what to do. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to initiate any further intimacy, or if Arthur was just being Arthur and getting unnecessarily flustered over the whole affair.

Or maybe Alfred had been such a terrible kisser that Arthur had decided he never wanted to try again.

King Francis said kissing was easy; that all Alfred had to do was "listen to what Arthur's body wanted and respond", whatever that meant. The idea that kissing was something more than just touching lips was radical to Alfred, and then Francis had said something about tongues and Alfred had become so embarrassed that he folded the letter away without reading the rest of it.

But now that Alfred had the rest of the afternoon free and the familiar ache that came with missing Arthur was throbbing it's way through every bit of him, Alfred rummaged through his drawers to find the letter and hopefully figure out what he was supposed to do. It was absurd that Alfred should miss someone he saw every day, but that didn't alleviate his displeasure; now that Arthur's feelings had changed, every moment not spent with him felt like a waste. Alfred thought he could curl up forever in Arthur's affection, however shyly and slowly given.

Alfred re-read the part of Francis' letter about the art of kissing, but most of flew over his head. He skimmed the rest until he found a passage that seemed particularly helpful.

_As for your concern that Arthur has not confessed any true love for you, I think you are too hasty. Think about what you are asking of him. Love is both the simplest and most complicated thing one can share with another person, and our dear Queen is nothing if not overly-cautious and self-censored. He will love you when he loves you, not when you want him to, and even still, I doubt he will admit it right away. You have fallen for a skittish young man. Stubborn and skittish; a daunting combination. I want you to think on this: true love, lasting love, can only exist on the basis of respect, trust and understanding. I'm sure you respect and trust Arthur, but how well do you understand him? Not how well can you describe him, but how intimate are you with every aspect of who he is and why he is that way? As soon as you have gained an understanding of him, you will gain his trust and his love and all three will grow, never-ending. Love is not a goal, Alfred. It is a process. There is no finite, satisfying destination, so get that silly idea out of your head right now and start working for what you want._

Alfred was taken aback and had to read the passage over several times before it made any sense to him. The furthest he could get in trying to explain Arthur was that Arthur just was who he was and that was all. Now he realized that that wasn't good enough and that there were so many things he didn't know and had never thought to be curious about. He knew nothing about Arthur's family or his childhood before coming to the palace, he knew hardly anything about his interests and his hopes and dreams. Arthur was still something like a stranger to him, and that made Alfred uncomfortable. Determined to follow Francis' advice, Alfred set off in search of Arthur.

He walked down the hall to Arthur's quarters, finding both the outer and inner doors leading to the bedroom open. Even Arthur's balcony window was flung outward, and understandably so now that the last bits of pleasant spring weather had left only heat. Alfred poked his head into the sitting room just in case Anne was around, but no one was to be found and he continued on into the bedroom.

Arthur was slumped over his writing desk, forehead touching the dark wood and an ink pen still in his left hand, relaxed and ready to slip away. An involuntary smile flitted across Alfred's lips and he watched Arthur indulgently for a few moments before crossing to him and kissing his head. He debated gently waking him, but decided to leave him be and made to leave the room.

"I'm not asleep, you know."

Jumping, Alfred laughed. "Oh! Sorry. What are you doing, then?"

Straightening up, Arthur threw the pen down and ran his hands through his hair before stretching his arms up with a sore sigh. Alfred was distracted by the flash of milky skin that appeared momentarily under the hem of Arthur's lifted shirt which was untucked with the sleeves rolled up.

"Writing to Kiku. I don't ever know what to say to him, though." He turned over his shoulder to look at Alfred. " I want to get to know him better, but I feel that he's put off by me. I'm afraid I'll say something foolish. What's so funny?"

Alfred stopped his giggling and pointed to Arthur's cheek. "You've got ink on your face."

"What? Oh. Damn." Arthur started rubbing at his face violently, but only made the smudge worse.

"Here. Let me." Alfred drew Arthur's frantic hands away and thumbed off the rest of the ink. He paused, then made the same wiping motion with his thumb along the curve of Arthur's cheekbone, slower and softer. Arthur's eyes flicked down to watch, then lifted back to Alfred. He cleared his throat abruptly and pulled away, packing away his writing supplies haphazardly.

"What have you been doing all morning?"

"Yao had me look at a proposition from an inventor in the city. He wants to present something called an electric lamp. I didn't really understand it, but it sounded interesting."

"Ah. And now?"

"I'm done for the day. I came to give you something."

"What's that?"

Alfred pulled Arthur up from his chair and held both his hands, swinging them back and forth playfully. He shrugged with a grin and leaned forward. "Just this."

Tilting his head to the side, Alfred kissed Arthur as unassumingly as he could manage considering how long he had been waiting for the opportunity. Arthur didn't react for a moment, but then Alfred could feel his lips twitch into a shadow of a smile as he went on tiptoe to push back against him. Alfred didn't understand why he did that when they were practically the same height, but it was endearing and gave Alfred the hope that Arthur was excited. He pulled away only to have Arthur follow after and rest his forehead against Alfred's.

"Oh."

"Yeah, _oh_."

Arthur bit his lip and sighed, arms going up around Alfred's neck like the first time they had kissed, like he was going to kiss him again, but then he pulled back and peered out into the sitting room and hallway beyond. He kissed Alfred quickly, then turned to pick up a stack of books on his night table.

"Take these back upstairs with me?"

"What? Why? I thought we could-"

"Just come?"

Alfred didn't understand why Arthur had decided a trip to the library was so important at that very moment, but he sighed in defeat and followed nonetheless.

The library took up a good portion of the third floor, endless rows of shelving packed with books sectioning off the massive room. The ceiling was taller here than on the second floor of the palace and the sound of the door closing behind them echoed slightly. Sunlight filtered in, amber and fuzzy, from the great arched windows along the wall facing the garden, and everything was so hushed and still that Alfred felt like he was trespassing. Arthur seemed to relax the moment he stepped foot on the thick carpeting and made his way down a row of shelves. Alfred trotted behind, not nearly as acquainted with the maze as Arthur was.

"Why are we up here, exactly?"

Arthur looked over his shoulder and smiled but offered no answer. He found the section he was looking for and examined each of the books in his arms before putting them back in their proper place.

"Can we go back down now?"

Shaking his head, Arthur reached out and pulled Alfred closer by his shirt. "No one ever comes up here."

"Yeah, so?"

Arthur smirked and arched an eyebrow, which might have looked ridiculous if there weren't also something cocky and sensual about the expression. He was obviously waiting for Alfred to say something, but Alfred still didn't understand why they had come up to the library at all. Scoffing in exasperation, Arthur rolled his eyes and put his hands on either side of Alfred's face to keep him still as he kissed him with more enthusiasm than he had in his bedroom.

Alfred felt stupid for not realizing what Arthur had meant earlier, and wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist. Arthur made a soft noise of surprise, and melted against him, hands slipping back until his wrists dangled over Alfred's shoulders. Alfred wanted nothing more than to stay like that forever, pressed against the warmth of Arthur, feeling the pulse of his heart against his chest and the sticky drag of his mouth. But he needed air and space and moment to regain his ability to stand.

"Finally." Arthur's voice was hoarse and low.

"What?"

"I've been waiting forever for that."

With a chuckle, Alfred kissed him again. "Me too! Why didn't you say something?"

"Why didn't _you_? I thought you would-

"I thought _you_ would-"

"We're both idiots."

Alfred nodded and hugged Arthur so tightly that he almost lifted him off the ground. Arthur hid his face in the crook of Alfred's neck and laughed.

"Come here."

Holding his hand, Arthur led Alfred over to one of the recessed windows and the cushioned seat there. It was warm and bright, the cool, dry air of the library cutting the heat of the day. Neither one of them said anything for a while, either looking down into the garden or out past the stone wall into the orchard, or just smiling foolishly at one another. Arthur smoothed down Alfred's hair and then ran his fingers through it at the temple, and Alfred shivered pleasantly.

"I don't like not seeing you all the time."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "We see each other often enough. We both have business to attend to. That's not going to change once we're..." Arthur trailed off and looked out the window, but Alfred could see he was blushing.

"Maybe we should just tell Yao that we're-"

"No! Absolutely not!"

"Why? He would probably be happy about it!"

"It's not his business, though." Arthur crossed his arms and scowled. "It's not anyone's business. We have to get married as a legal arrangement, but anything beyond that is private and I'd like it to stay private. This- whatever _this _is- should just be about us, all right?"

Alfred pouted and slumped his shoulders. "I don't know. I think Yao and everyone would like it if they knew we were really together."

"You just want to brag."

"Well, of course." Alfred laughed and put his hand on Arthur's knee, rubbing a slow circle. "You're wonderful, so why wouldn't I?"

Arthur pushed the hand on his knee off only to intertwine their fingers. "Inflating my ego does not change my position. Besides if Yao knew we were courting, he'd watch us like a hawk. We'd never get to be alone in the same room together."

"I like that."

"What?"

"You said we're courting. It sounds so proper and romantic."

"Tch. That's as close to what we're doing as I can think of. Don't ruin it by being sentimental." Arthur tried to sound harsh, but Alfred could tell he was teasing.

"Well, since you're the expert, I have question for you about courting etiquette."

"Oh?"

"Yes. When two people are courting, what are the rules about kissing? Does one of them have to ask the other's permission, or are they allowed to just kiss each other whenever they feel like it?"

"Hmm." Arthur pretended to contemplate it for a moment, brows furrowed in mock concentration. "I'm not quite sure what the fashionable youth are doing these days, but I, for one, don't prescribe to asking permission. I think it's much easier to-"

Alfred cut him off with a kiss, revelling in the happy groan Arthur let slip. They were still clumsy about it, unsure where their hands should go and what they should do when they got there, and Alfred didn't have good aim or instinct, which meant the kisses were lopsided and overly wet. Arthur didn't seem to mind, though, keeping up if he could, pushing back if he couldn't. There was a small part of Alfred that was confused by the lack of gentleness and innocence that he had half-hoped would follow confession. He'd had a rosy view of what their romance would be like, something soft and easy, filled with sweetness and chaste touches. And that was completely absurd given Alfred's other, more desirous thoughts.

But that's what he wanted. He wanted a clean division between the goodness and purity of love and the overwhelming temptation of passion. This, what they were doing now, was neither. It was a mess, a disaster, but as bewildering as it was, Alfred knew it was perfect. He and Arthur had always been something of a fiasco, and it seemed that nothing would change when it came to being lovers.

Arthur took advantage of Alfred's inattention and advanced. He unfolded his legs and shifted until he was on his knees on the cushion of the window seat, and Alfred had to tilt his head back to stay connected. He didn't have any leverage now, and Arthur seemed to be enjoying that fact. His hands had been playing with Alfred's hair, but now one was gripping the windowsill and the other landed on Alfred's upper thigh. Something about the heat and heaviness of Arthur's hand there made Alfred's heart start racing, and then that hand slipped up higher, thumb stroking along the inseam of Alfred's trousers. With a jolt and an unseemly gasp, Alfred pushed Arthur's hand away and scooted himself to the opposite end of the seat. Arthur's eyes were still closed and his mouth still pursed in something close to a kiss when he found himself completely unsupported and almost fell forward. It would have been hilarious if Alfred hadn't felt both overwrought and suddenly timid.

Glaring at Alfred, Arthur righted himself. "What are you doing?"

"What are _you_ doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"What was that?"

"What was _what_?"

Alfred felt hot and nervous and he didn't want to talk about anything anymore. This was supposed to easy, but instead he was getting worked up over a little touch on the leg. Maybe he needed to read Francis' letter again more closely.

"Nothing. Never mind." Alfred stood and held out his hand. "We should go back before Yao comes looking for us."

Arthur ignored the offered hand and stood, fussing with his clothing and hair. He was chewing on his lip, and Alfred felt bad that he'd made things awkward and had given no explanation. He just didn't know how he was supposed to say that he wanted things that he couldn't handle, or that he couldn't handle the things he wanted. It was complicated and Alfred didn't know what he was thinking or feeling, so he could hardly expect Arthur to understand.

"Fine." Arthur stood and walked briskly across the library, but away from the doors.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"To get more books. We'll need an excuse to come back here." Arthur paused for a moment then shook his head and turned a corner. Alfred could just barely hear him say, "Unless, that is, you don't want to."

By the time Alfred caught up, Arthur was perusing a shelf with great interest, one hand covering his mouth as if he were making a vastly important decision. In reality, he was trying not to look upset, but failing miserably since his shoulders were slumped and his eyes were pained. Alfred approached him cautiously and wrapped him in a hug from behind, resting his chin on Arthur's shoulder.

"Of course I do."

Arthur pretended not to hear Alfred nor notice his physical presence, instead reaching out to grab two books and inspect them critically.

"Haven't you already read those?" Alfred recognized them both as volumes of faerie tales, and he looked past Arthur to the books on the shelves. They were all myths and legends and children's stories. "Haven't you read _all _of these?"

"Yes, and what of it?" Arthur tried to loosen Alfred's grip around his middle, but Alfred didn't want to let him go in such a down mood. He kissed his cheek and thought about what Francis had said about understanding.

"They must mean a lot to you, then."

"I- I suppose they do."

"Why?"

Arthur huffed, but relaxed into Alfred's hold. This is what Alfred had wanted. There wasn't anything dangerous or exciting about touching Arthur like this, but it was still making him feel warm and light and happy.

"I don't know. They're simple, but they're not. They have lessons to be learned and they mean something different every time I read them. And even if terrible things happen, it's all for the best in the end. And I can see them. In my head, I mean. I can imagine everything and it's a... a beautiful distraction from things that aren't so beautiful."

Alfred hummed his response and thought for a moment before asking, "Do you have favourites?"

Arthur laughed. "Of course I do. All the ones I used to tell you when you'd beg me to read to you." He wiggled his way out of Alfred's arms and turned around, smiling self-consciously up at Alfred before turning away. "I always saved the best ones for you."

Watching as Arthur pulled down another book, an idea struck Alfred. If he wanted to get to know Arthur, it seemed this fascination with fantasy was a good place to start. He took the books from Arthur and cradled them in one arm, then offered Arthur his hand once more.

"Well, why don't you tell me them all again? Let me see what's in that head of yours."

Arthur blinked in shock, then eyed Alfred warily as if it were some trick. "Why the sudden interest? It's been years since you've cared to hear about these things."

"Because they're important to you. And you're important to me."

Arthur's expression softened and he shook his head and laughed to himself. Placing his hand in Alfred's, he squeezed gently and let a real smile loose.

"All right. If that's what you want."

* * *

><p>They didn't get private time together for another week, and this time it was Arthur that was stuck at Yao's side. The first correspondences from the Kingdom of Hearts regarding the Deck Council had arrived and with the meeting scheduled for early fall, Yao was already worked up over the details. Arthur didn't mind the long talks and stacks of papers to be sifted through, though; he liked being useful for once instead of writing letters and waiting. However, he did mind being bereft of any time spent with Alfred. If Arthur gave himself leave to think on it, he realized that for the first time in his life he was acting like a frustrated adolescent. Not frustrated in terms of his situation or work, but because he had someone he cared about and desired and he couldn't do anything about it most of the time. He'd never felt the need to be around someone so badly, with the exception of Matthew in the earlier days of their friendship, and it scared him. Alfred wasn't a source of discomfort anymore, at least not because of secrets and obligation. He made Arthur uncomfortable in an entirely new array of ways, but it was also thrilling.<p>

And it seemed that Arthur was returning the favour, if Alfred's skittishness in the library was anything to go by. Arthur hadn't thought it to be anything worth getting upset over; it was just a little caress and if they were going to go around kissing all the time, it would follow naturally that that would occur. He'd forgotten that Alfred wouldn't be fifteen for two months yet and that he didn't know anything about that kind of thing. Not that Arthur did, but at nineteen years old and with a pent-up and active imagination, Arthur at least knew what he _thought_ he wanted. And it was much more than sitting nicely next to Alfred and talking about the weather. It was all too confusing to think about, but there were times when Arthur wouldn't see Alfred as a whole but in tantalizing bits and pieces. Noticing an ink stain on Alfred's fingers would turn into fantasizing over how large and warm his hands were, watching him speak or smile fostered daydreams in which those lips were making soft visits to places other Arthur's own, and every twitch of muscle or flash of skin gave Arthur awful tingles. He was embarrassed by it, but perhaps he was due his impure thoughts and impatience for having to put up with Alfred's precocious flirtations early on.

Late in the evening, there came a sharp rap on Arthur's bedroom door. He rolled himself off his bed, waistcoat open and shirt half undone as he'd been lazily preparing to sleep, assuming Anne must have forgotten something when she had left earlier that afternoon.

"Yes, what is it?" The door swung open to reveal Alfred, and Arthur had the briefest thought that he should grab his dressing gown and maintain some level of decency but then he realized that there was little point since they'd seen each other undressed at the lake.

"Oh! Sorry! I didn't realize you were changing, sorry, I'll wait out here." Alfred immediately closed his eyes and turned his head and Arthur might have thought it endearing if it wasn't also a part of his problem. He sighed and went over to kiss Alfred's cheek before retrieving his dressing gown moodily.

"Don't be absurd. Come in."

Alfred opened his eyes, but kept them trained on the carpet as he closed the door behind him, not looking up until Arthur was appropriately swaddled in the stuffy robe.

"How was Yao today?"

"Frantic, as usual. He's worried about our presentation for the Council. He doesn't know that the Clubs will support it. They're so private."

"What does he want to propose?"

"I didn't tell you? Oh." Arthur sat down on the edge of his bed and patted the spot next to him in invitation. Alfred hesitated for moment and it was then that Arthur noticed the package behind his back. "What have you got, there?"

"I'll show you in a minute." Alfred sat next to him, but did so primly and without being too close. It was obvious he was still uncomfortable, which Arthur found laughable considering they'd shared this bed more than once, but he didn't pursue that line of thinking. "What about the Council?"

"We've begun using the new steam locomotives for the transportation of goods, right? Well, not only does Yao think we should expand the rail system to connect all the Kingdoms, but he wants to fund research into improving safety so that they can be used for travel by ordinary citizens."

"That sounds brilliant! I've never seen a real locomotive, only the model one!"

"Well, I don't think you'll be seeing one anytime soon. Yao's convinced the Clubs will oppose. They already have such strong defence of their borders, so they'd hardly want to fund an enterprise that makes it possible for their country to be intruded upon."

"But it would make travel easier!"

"Yes, and more dangerous. Workers die on these things, Alfred. Imagine subjecting more people to that."

"If they made it more safe, though, it would be a good thing! We wouldn't have to sit around in bumpy carriages for days! Improving science and technology can never be a bad."

Arthur reached out to touch Alfred's upper arm. "It's more complicated than that. We don't understand it all yet, and we don't have the money to do it right now anyway. It's just an idea, and if we can't make it more palatable for the Clubs, we won't take it to Council at all."

Alfred slumped a little after that, and Arthur smiled at his childish excitement over new ideas. Arthur had never taken much interest in science, so most of what Yao told him went over his head, but if it would please Alfred to have advancements made, Arthur wanted to work out a way to make that happen.

"Forget about it for now. What did you come to show me?"

Alfred perked up and placed the package on Arthur's lap. It wasn't anything but a stack of papers held together by thick chord along the edges and then bundled with a blue ribbon.

"What is it?"

"Read it and see!"

Arthur undid the ribbon and flipped open the first page of the papers. He looked up at Alfred quizzically when recognized that it was Alfred's own handwriting, but Alfred just gestured at him to continue on. Arthur hadn't even gotten through the first sentence when he looked at Alfred again, smile threatening to erupt.

"What did you do, Alfred?"

"They're your favourite stories. I remembered them and wrote them down and now you won't have to go find all the different books when you want to read them!"

"That's absurd, Alfred, it's not-"

"Keep turning the pages!"

Shaking his head in disbelief, Arthur thumbed through a few more sheets until he found an illustration done in ink and water colour. It was of a wood sprite petting the muzzle of a fox, and Arthur immediately knew which faerie tale the scene was from. With blood rushing to his face and ears, Arthur flipped through more pages and found still more drawings of creatures and forests and knights. They were crudely drawn, but their lack of polish made them endearing in their homeliness, and Arthur was overcome with a strange surge of emotion.

"You did these?"

"Yeah. I was never as good at drawing as you, so I'm sorry that they aren't very good. But I remembered you saying that you could see the stories in your head! None of those books had any pictures, so I just thought-"

Arthur pushed the bundle aside and threw his arms around Alfred's neck, kissing him with such force that Alfred teetered on the edge of the bed until he planted his feet and returned the embrace. He pulled away first, breathless and laughing, his spectacles slipping down his nose.

"So you like it, then?"

Pecking at his lips again cheerily, Arthur pushed Alfred's glasses into place and stroked his cheek. "It's brilliant, thank you. I don't understand when you had all the time to do this!"

"You were busy with Yao, and I didn't have anything to do, so it was easy! It's not finished though. I want to send it into the city to get bound properly, but I couldn't wait to give it to you."

Arthur let his hand coast down along Alfred's arm so he could take hold of his hand. "You're too sweet to me. I don't deserve it."

"Hey, I've waited along time to get to be sweet to you, so now I'm going to take every opportunity I get." Alfred grinned and kissed the back of Arthur's hand. "Besides, this is a part of you and I want to love every little bit."

"I care for you, as well." Arthur felt guilty for not being able to use the same word Alfred had, but even if he wanted Alfred more than anyone, he couldn't bring himself to say he loved him. Alfred still didn't know how much all of this was a part of Arthur, and he debated keeping it to himself a while longer. But then he looked over to the bundle and beyond the bed to the music box on his night-table and he knew there would never be a better time. If he was ever going to love Alfred, he needed to be honest with him.

"I have to tell you something, though."

"What?"

"It's about why this is so important to me. I know it must seem silly to you; they're just stories." Arthur couldn't contain his nervous energy and stood, pacing a little ways away from where Alfred sat, arms crossed over his stomach. "Do you remember the secret I told you when we were children? When I read you stories and you fell asleep here?"

"Secret? No. Arthur, are you all right? You're worrying me."

"You said you wished they were real. All the spirits and faeries and creatures; and I told you... I told you I could see them."

Alfred's face scrunched up in confusion and he shook his head. "What? You mean, like what you said about being able to imagine it, right?"

"No." Arthur took a deep breath. "It's called the Gift. Or it was, anyway. All these things are real, Alfred, and only some people can see them. I'm one of those people. My mother was, too. We can see the things in these stories that everyone else thinks are just fictional, children's lore."

It was a while before Alfred said anything, staring at Arthur blankly with his hands clenching the bedding. Then he cleared his throat and looked away. "And, uh, what did I say? Back then, when you told me."

"You thought I was joking. You called me a freak."

Arthur felt a pang of guilt when Alfred flinched, but he needed to relieve himself of this burden, even if it meant Alfred would be afraid of him or think he was crazy.

"I did? I don't- I don't remember that. Why don't I remember that? I-" Alfred shook his head and stood, wrapping Arthur in a hug. Arthur was shocked and didn't move, arms still wrapped tight around his stomach."I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I can't remember that and I can't believe I said that! No wonder you hated me."

When Arthur found his voice again he murmured, "I didn't hate you. But you- you believe me?"

Alfred pulled back and gripped Arthur by the shoulders. "I don't know. I mean, I don't think you would lie to me, but I've never heard of any of this, I've never heard of people having the Gift before." A fearful expression crossed his face and he gulped. "Is it true? Can you really see _things_?"

"Yes! I swear, I wouldn't lie to you. No one talks about the Gift because it's considered shameful in this country. I don't know about other places, but here everyone values reason and science and progress, and my abilities are thought of as backwards. Th-that is, they don't think these things exist because you can't see them, you can't prove they are real unless you have the Gift."

Alfred sat back down on the bed and shivered, looking around the room in paranoia. "So, can you see ghosts? Are there monsters and-"

"No! I've never seen a ghost or anything like that. Just things like faeries and sprites. Nothing bad. Or at least, nothing that's ever tried to hurt me."

"But there might be bad things?"

"Maybe. I can't say for sure. I don't know enough about any of this to say."

"Are there _things_ living here? You would tell me if something was here, wouldn't you?"

Arthur could see that Alfred was starting to panic. He leaned down and kissed his forehead, holding him close against his chest for a moment.

"Nothing's here, Alfred. I- I haven't been able to see anything since I came to live here. I thought I had, once, out by the lake, but I've never seen anything since. I don't even know that I still have my Gift. I just needed someone to share this with."

Alfred looked relieved, but still nervous. "You never told anyone about this?"

"Yao knows because he knew my mother. He seemed to think it was fine. But no, after you called me... well, anyway, no I never told anyone about it. "

"And you don't know if you still can see things?"

"No. From what little I've heard, it's not uncommon for children to grow out of the Gift at some point. My mother did. Maybe I have, too." Arthur tried not to sound sad over it, knowing it might be a fact he had to live with, but Alfred caught the tone of his voice anyway and rubbed soothingly up his arm.

"Do you miss it?"

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but he didn't think he could speak without becoming more upset, so he just nodded his head.

Alfred didn't say anything for a while, looking up at Arthur with an unreadable expression. Then he nodded to himself curtly and stood, holding both of Arthur's hands in his own.

"I don't understand any of this, and if I'm going to be honest, I don't like it. But if you say that this is how it is, then I believe you. I'm sorry that you've never been able to share this with anyone, but I'm going to talk to Yao and we're going to do something about it."

"Like what?"

"Where's the last place you saw something?"

"My home. Years ago, though. Before I ever came here."

"Then let's go."

"What? Where?"

"Back to your home. If that's where you know they are, then let's go and see if you can still see them."

Arthur gasped incredulously and he struggled to articulate why it was an awful idea. "But we can't! That's preposterous! Yao would never let me go all the way back home just to poke around in the garden!"

"I'll worry about Yao. He'll be fine with it. He'll let _us_ go." Alfred smiled gently and kissed the tip of Arthur's nose. "Don't think I'm going to let you go by yourself. I want to see this Gift for myself."

"But my parents-"

"Will love having you home for once. And I want to meet them."

"You have met them!"

"But I don't know anything about them! Shouldn't I know my Queen's family?" Alfred tilted his head to the side and Arthur knew he was losing this battle.

"Don't look at me like that. This is an awful idea."

"But you miss it! What if you still have the Gift!"

"And what if I don't!" Arthur hadn't meant to shout so desperately, and he rested his forehead on Alfred's shoulder miserably. "What am I going to do, then?"

Alfred hugged him and rested his chin on top of his head. "We'll deal with that _if _it happens. So, can we go?"

Arthur sighed heavily. He was so happy and so scared, two things that he had been feeling in combination almost consistently since Alfred had foolishly climbed up the tree and proposed to him a year ago. One secret had been flushed out, and now another was threatening to define their relationship. But it was something that defined Arthur himself, or at least had, and Arthur could understand why Alfred thought it was worth pursuing. He had a feeling Alfred was still sceptical of his claims, and would probably run to Yao first thing in the morning with a list of questions. For now, however, Arthur let him nod against Alfred's shoulder and feel as accepted as he could hope for.

"All right. We'll go."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry for the longer-than-normal gap between updates. Thanks for sticking it out, and I hope you're all still enjoying yourselves!**


	16. Chapter 16

"How much longer, do you think?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and lolled his head against the frame of the carriage window.

"I don't know. Stop asking."

Alfred groaned and put his feet up on the seat next to Arthur. They had been sitting side by side when their journey to the Kirkland manor house had started, but the weather had shifted fast and now it was too wet and muggy for any type of closeness.

"I thought you said it wasn't far."

"It's not! Only two or three hours. But the rain-"

"I know."

"Then why ask?"

Shooting Arthur an unamused look, Alfred mimicked him under his breath with a high, whiny voice. Alfred fidgeted again, then started chewing on his thumb nail. Arthur tried to ignore the clicking of his teeth and looked out the window. Even though it was raining, they had left them open to alleviate some of the sticky heat, but Arthur was still wiping sweat from his hairline every few minutes. He felt damp and itchy and miserable and wanted nothing more than to strip off his clothing and sit in the rocky carriage in his undergarments, propriety and self-consciousness be damned. More than seeing his family, Arthur couldn't wait to arrive back home so he could throw himself in a tub of cool water. His mind became increasingly vacant as he watched the heavy green of the countryside roll stiltedly past, but then Alfred's nail biting became too distracting to bear.

"Would you stop that?"

"What?"

"Biting your nails! It's driving me mad!"

Alfred plopped his hands in his lap petulantly and glared at Arthur.

"You do it, too!"

"Well, I'm trying not to! Your biting is only reminding me that I can't." Arthur inspected his hands nervously. "My mother will have me over her knee if I come home with ragged fingernails."

"What do you mean?"

"It's always been a bad habit of mine." Arthur stopped his inspection and rubbed his clammy palms on his trousers. "My mother tried to break me of it when I was younger by making me soak my fingers in vinegar."

"Ewwww. And that didn't stop you?"

"No. Quite the opposite. I developed a fondness for vinegar."

Alfred laughed and shook his head. "You're joking."

"Not at all. I only stopped when my father threatened to take a switch to my backside if he ever caught me." Arthur made a dramatically pained face while Alfred giggled. "And even then I just did it behind their backs."

The smile faded from Alfred's face and he looked at his own hands with a worried sigh. "I'm nervous. About meeting them, I mean. This is different than seeing them when they come to the palace for official events. It's... I have to impress them."

Arthur scoffed. "You don't have to do a thing. You're royalty. They'll love anything you do or say. Besides, they'll probably be too busy picking at me to notice your less charming attributes."

"Like what?" Alfred arched an eyebrow in challenge, and swung his legs off the seat so he could lean towards Arthur.

"Well, you're a glutton." Arthur reached out and poked Alfred's stomach, which earned him a shocked laugh and a swat, but he moved his hand so it was braced along the side of Alfred's ribcage, thumb rubbing up and down a known sensitive spot.

"St-stop! I am not!" Alfred squirmed, but didn't try in earnest to escape, so Arthur pressed on.

"Yes you are. And you're terribly lazy. You'd sleep in past noon if Yao let you. And you're a fool." Arthur was leaning so far forward that he was nearly on his knees in front of Alfred, just barely sitting on his side of the carriage any more. He smiled teasingly, but saw a flicker of hurt cross Alfred's face. "You're a hopelessly romantic and sentimental fool, what with that mouth of yours always running and saying things it shouldn't."

Alfred's expression softened and he sat forward to give Arthur a tiny kiss. "You like my mouth."

Arthur hummed non-committally and returned the kiss.

"You like the rest of me, too."

"I suppose that's true." Arthur went in for another kiss, but Alfred evaded him and pulled him onto the seat so they were pressed by side once again. It was still far too hot and damp to be so close, but Arthur found he didn't mind it as much when Alfred was pushing a sweaty lock of hair behind his ear and caressing his cheek. He was kissed again, the contact irritating in its lightness, so he locked his hands behind Alfred's head and yanked him sloppily forward. Arthur was uncomfortable, twisted sideways and getting slightly rained on, poorly balanced now that Alfred's weight was pushing him off his seat, but it was worth the frenzy to have Alfred's mouth pressed harshly against his.

Arthur was tired of softness. They'd had years of nothing but softness and good manners and pretending. He wasn't sure what he was doing or why he so badly needed to do it, but this- fumbling and clutching and making a mess of things- was something he was better at than Alfred. He could lead the way in this, even if it was blindly and he had to all but drag Alfred along.

Slow to respond, Alfred, was trying to find something to brace himself on, and finally found the side of the carriage above Arthur's head, palm laid flat and arm straining to keep himself from falling. The bump of metal against Arthur's cheek reminded him that he should be careful of Alfred's spectacles, and Arthur bit at Alfred's bottom lip in frustration.

"Ow!" Alfred scrambled back to the far side of the seat and touched his lip, the flesh just slightly swollen, but indecently red. He looked at Arthur with a mixture of confusion and amusement, but stopped Arthur's attempts at advancement with a hand pressed solidly against Arthur's chest. "Arthur, stop! What if the driver hears us?"

Arthur pushed the hand away and almost lunged forward again, but of course Alfred was infuriatingly right in telling him to mind himself more carefully, and he moodily returned to his own side of the carriage. "It's your fault! You started it!"

"I was just teasing!"

"That's all you're good for. Teasing," Arthur spat with a disgusted roll of his eyes, slumping down in his seat and crossing his arms.

Alfred's brow furrowed and his face flushed. "I don't know what you want me to do. It's not like we can- I mean- we can't...I want to... I-"

"Never mind, then."

The mood congealed into the tense, foul thing it had been before, and now Arthur had no one to blame but himself. He _could_ blame Alfred, and that did seem the fairer option given that he was the one who wanted to embark on a romantic enterprise to begin with, but then he looked over and saw Alfred petting his lower lip fretfully. Alfred was sulking again, but more troubled than restless this time, and Arthur felt poorly for ruining everything again.

"I'm sorry, Alfred. It's just... I'm nervous as well and I needed-"

"Are they really that hard on you?" Alfred interrupted and looked at Arthur worriedly.

"Um. Well, not my mother. She's always been a bit indulgent, perhaps, but my father..." Arthur cleared his throat and went to work straightening his clothes, as if he could feel the disapproving glare that would come with his arriving dishevelled. "... he's never been too fond of me, no."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see. Compared to my brothers, especially Will... well, you'll see. I don't blame him or anything like that. All things considered, I am a bit disappointing." Arthur tried to sound light-hearted in his self-deprecation, but the laughter in his words felt forced even to his own ears.

"Arthur-"

"No." He could hear the forthcoming denials in Alfred's voice; Alfred would say something too sweet and generous and untrue, and Arthur didn't want to hear it when he'd be proven wrong in just a short while. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, Alfred. It's fine. He means well."

Alfred looked at Arthur with a pained expression, but didn't say anything. Eventually, Arthur found it so unnerving that he had to look away and out the carriage window, rain still falling to the thick, hot earth.

* * *

><p>Their reception at the manor house was not what Arthur had thought it would be. He'd been expecting to see his family lined up at the entrance, solemnly awaiting the moment when their future King would step out of the carriage, armed with formalities and pleasantries. Instead, Arthur and Alfred were greeted by the head maid and a few other servants, who bowed stiffly until being told to unload the luggage. The head maid, a woman Arthur didn't know, told them that they were to get settled and refreshed before supper, that the Lady of the house thought they might prefer some time to rest before meeting. It took Arthur a moment to realize the Lady she referred to was his mother and the entire situation made him feel uneasy. Alfred didn't seem to find it odd at all, nudging Arthur as they were brought into the foyer.<p>

"Is it like you remembered?"

"No, it's..."

_ Smaller._ It seemed silly to think it, but after years of living in the Spades Palace, Arthur's childhood home felt foreign and cramped. With the servants bustling to retrieve their belongings behind them, Arthur realized just how few people it actually took to run their household. There had only ever been five or six people employed by the Kirklands, and Arthur began to wonder what the dozens of servants back at the palace even_ did _all day, what with only three people to look after. Other than cleaning their rooms and maintaining the gardens, it wasn't as if there was that much work to be done on a daily basis. His new life seemed almost wasteful in its comfort.

Alfred didn't press him to finish his thought and was whisked away by a pair of maids. Arthur was led back to his old room, warned in advance that it had been taken over by Oliver and Andrew since the nursery had been converted into a room for Peter. When the maid opened the door, Arthur half expected the two boys, who were just twelve and ten, to be playing raucously inside. Instead, Arthur was greeted with silence and two perfectly made beds, not a single book or toy on the floor, nor a trace of his younger brothers to be found.

"I thought you said Andrew and Oliver took this room? Where are they?"

"Oh! Didn't you know? Your parents sent them to a boarding school in the north a few months ago."

"No, I didn't know."

Something in that made Arthur's stomach turn and he couldn't quite figure out what was so upsetting. The maid was placing clothing from Arthur's travelling trunk into the drawers, laying out a new outfit as she found matching pieces, chattering on about how smart his brothers were for being so young and how the Lord and the Lady were optimistic they would have brilliant careers when they were older. That's when it dawned on Arthur what bothered him so greatly about his brothers being sent off.

They were as old as he was before his betrothal had happened, and yet no talk of schooling for Arthur outside what tutoring his mother could accomplish was ever discussed. William had gone to school of course, and had graduated from the legal academy in the spring, but that was to be expected since he would rightfully inherit anything their father had, business included. But Arthur's prospects had never been so much as mentioned. Whether they had meant to send him off, but the betrothal had presented a better opportunity, or they had simply never thought enough of him to enroll him in a real school, it hurt Arthur's pride a bit to think that his parents were already more invested in his younger brother's futures. They certainly didn't have to worry about Arthur's future now, but the thought that they hadn't worried about it all made Arthur's stomach ache.

"Would you like me to draw a bath for you now, your Highness?"

Arthur jumped at that, unused to being called by what he supposed was now his rightful title, but didn't offer any correction.

"Yes, please. Cool, if you be so kind."

That was another inconvenience Arthur had never considered. As he sat in the tepid water, he stared at the fireplace in the corner of the washroom, copper pot still hanging inside though there was no fire. When he was a child, they'd had to wait for water to heat there and then pour it into the tub; at the palace, it took less than half the time because of the pipes and faucets, and the water drained out over a grate that led to even more pipes instead of having to be scooped out again. Shaking his head, Arthur stopped trying to understand his old life and grasp onto any familiarity there. It had been too long, and it wouldn't do to make himself sick over things that didn't matter anymore.

Arthur scrubbed himself down with a salty paste flecked with mint leaves, and he smiled because at least this hadn't changed. He'd hated the stuff as a child because it had smelled like medicine to him, but now it felt blissful and soothing to his itchy, hot skin.

He dressed and considered lying down for a bit before trying to find his mother, but something about the smaller bed unnerved him. Looking around the room, Arthur could see not a single thing of his own. Even the bookshelf held different books now. It was if he had never lived here at all, not a single piece of evidence to suggest that he even existed. He felt erased, even though he knew his family had not done it on purpose, that they were just making room where they could. With a grimace, he wondered where his things had been stored, or if they had been sold. He had no need of them, obviously, not after seven years and the palace providing everything he could ever need. Still, he didn't want to spend a moment longer than he had to in the room, and went in search of Alfred and his family.

After searching the formal receiving parlour and the dining room, Arthur found them in the small conservatory off of his father's study. They were seated comfortably, apparently laughing at something that Alfred had said, but stopped and turned when Arthur entered. Immediately his mother was on her feet and reached out to embrace him.

"Arthur, darling! We'd just sent for you!" She kissed him on both his cheeks and his forehead, then hugged him again. "It's so good to see you. We've missed you so much!"

Arthur could nearly hear his father's teeth grinding at his wife's doting behaviour, but his face was passive enough to seem pleasant as he shook Arthur's hand and welcomed him stiffly. He was taken aback to see the large silver patches taking over at his father's temples, and the new creases around his mouth and eyes; he seemed so much older all of sudden, and Arthur wasn't sure how to feel. Fumbling over his greetings, Arthur felt nothing but another surge of nausea. This entire trip was starting to seem like a terrible idea; the pain of having to interact with his family -people he hardly knew now- was dangerously close to not be worth it to see if he still had his Gift.

Then Alfred was at his side, saying something that must have been charming because his parents laughed again, and he was being pulled toward a sofa and sitting far too close to Alfred and suddenly he was worried that they would know. They would know that he and Alfred were courting personally and not just pretending to get along for the sake of the kingdom, and everything would be ruined. His face must have lost some of it's colour because his mother was calling his name urgently and staring at him with wide-eyes.

"What? Yes, I'm fine, I apologize, I'm just a little tired from the journey."

"It's not such a long distance! Are you sure you're not ill, dear?"

The look on Arthur's father's face communicated clearly that he should not be ill or tired or anything other than healthy and cordial, so Arthur shook his head even as Alfred was interrupting.

"Oh, no! He must be tired from all the extra preparations he's doing with Yao for the Deck Council! They've been working on proposals for weeks now." He beamed at Arthur and his father, obviously trying to dispel some of the tension.

Arthur's father smiled permissively at Alfred. "And tell me, your Highness, is my son taking care of affairs to your liking?"

It was a loaded question. If Alfred said no, then Arthur looked like an idiot, but if Alfred went on complimenting Arthur, his father would take him for a fool.

"Arthur's wonderful! He's gotten along so well with the other Queens, and he's clever with words. I have no doubt that he will help write a winning proposal for this fall!"

Inclining his head slightly, Arthur's father murmured his thanks, but shot Arthur a look that warned him they would have words later. Before the full awkwardness of the atmosphere could occur to Alfred, Arthur's mother was piping up with her own question.

"And speaking of proposals, I was not aware that the Jack of Spades had made your Highness' betrothal to our son public!"

Alfred smiled and patted Arthur fondly on the knee. Arthur could feel the blood rush to his ears and drown out the sound as both his parents' gaze trained in on that hand and flickers of bewilderment on their faces betrayed their shock. He shifted slightly on the sofa so that Alfred's hand fell away, and anyone could imagine that the touch had been casual, perhaps even accidental.

"Well, it has not been formally announced, no. We all decided that it would be best to wait until my coronation to do so." Arthur could hear Alfred struggling to choose his words carefully and he wished they had thought to practice their responses to any questions regarding marriage. "But Yao thought it was time I know about the arrangement. There was no point in keeping it a secret, not when I was old enough to understand my duty."

Turning to Arthur with a gentle reprimand in her high sing-song voice, his mother said through a thick smile, "Arthur, why did you not tell us that the Jack had informed his Highness about all this? A year ago. When it happened."

"Er. Like, Alf- his Highness said. It was not going to be officially announced until next year, so I didn't think it... prudent to discuss it without permission." He coughed gingerly and looked away, hoping that the excuse was good enough for the subject to be dropped.

"It was a relief though, I have to admit. Arthur's become a great friend of mine, and knowing that he will be my partner in ruling is a comfort," Alfred said quietly, but his sincerity was thunderous. Arthur bit back a smile and tried to surreptitiously gauge his parents' reactions. His mother was smiling tearfully and patting his father on the arm, and his father didn't look entirely displeased.

"It's an honour that you think so much of our son, your Highness."

"Lord Kirkland, it's an honour to know your son. I mean that, truthfully."

Leaning back in his chair, Arthur's father turned his gaze back to his son. Arthur squirmed beneath the intensity of it, and he could hear the unspoken response clearly.

_ We'll see. _

* * *

><p>William made an appearance for dinner, apologizing profusely for being late. The rain had hindered his travel from the village closest to the manor house, where he was wrapped up in some legal business involving farmland. He explained the case with great passion, and Alfred seemed quite interested in the issue, but Arthur tuned out and poked at the food on his plate.<p>

His brother was a friendly sort, outgoing and handsome enough to nearly always get his way. Being six years older than Arthur, he'd never paid much attention to the younger siblings, but had bullied Arthur every now and then. Pranks, like hiding Arthur's violin bow, or filling his stockings with dirt or locking him in the dark cellar- nothing too terribly mean, but still vivid enough in Arthur's memory that he had never been close with William. Perhaps it was his bravado and charm that made William their father's favourite, or that he was the first son, or perhaps it was a boost to Lord Kirkland's vanity to have a child that looked so much like himself.

Arthur, of course had inherited his mother's delicate looks, but none of her beauty, and Andrew and Oliver looked like neither of their parents, the former with curly brown hair and wide-set blue eyes, and the latter with too pinched of an expression, shockingly red hair, and brown eyes. It was only William that took after their father: well over six feet tall, broad shouldered and athletic, the same odd, dark auburn hair and pale blue eyes. Arthur wished he were half as good looking, and half as clever at conversation and he felt himself sinking further and further into his sulking every time Alfred laughed at something William said or asked to hear more about his work.

Alfred got along so well with his family that Arthur was beginning to feel like the guest. Even Peter, eight years old and precocious as could be for an eight year old, had taken to Alfred right away and asked if he would like to play pirates with him. Laughter and gentle scolding had followed, but Alfred had of course promised to play whatever Peter wanted during their stay.

The promised must have mollified the boy, because now he was on his best behaviour at the dining table, not talking or making a mess, just sitting primly and trying to act absurdly dignified. Arthur had been relegated to the chair across from him, farthest away from Alfred and his father and the message in that was clear: he was about as important as a child.

"You don't remember me, do you?" Arthur asked Peter quietly, craving some attention even if he felt inadequate to jump into the conversation at the other end of the table.

Peter looked up from his plate donned a lofty expression. "No. Mother says I was just a baby the last time I was at the palace."

"Yes you were. I held you and you gripped my finger so tight I thought you might pull it off!" Arthur tried to smile warmly and sound brotherly, but Peter didn't seem impressed and went back to his food. Desperate for some sort of validation, Arthur forced a tiny laugh.

"They say we look alike, you and I. What do you think?"

Peter sighed and examined Arthur's face critically. "I hope not."

"What do you mean?"

"I hope we don't look alike. You're ugly."

Arthur couldn't help the hurt flaring up after such a candid sting. He knew he should just let the insult go, that Peter was only a child and Arthur was as good as a stranger to him, and that children were sometimes cruelly honest. But that wasn't enough to stop him from narrowing his eyes and leaning forward across the table.

"When I first met you, and held you, I thought you were the sweetest thing, you know. I though, my goodness how small and fascinating this is, that this is my little brother. Turns out you're just a nasty little animal."

Peter pouted and glared at Arthur. "You can't talk to me like that! I'll be a knight or even a King someday, and I'll have you put in jail for being mean to me!"

"You can't be a knight, there's no such thing anymore," Arthur hissed. "And Alfred's going to be King. You'll be nothing but a little brat forever!"

"Well at least mother and father love me enough to keep me! They didn't send me off like you!"

"They sent Andrew and Oliver off!"

"But they get to come back! You don't! You have to stay away because they don't want you anymore!"

Arthur could feel angry tears beginning to form, and he swallowed painfully. Peter didn't know anything, he was just saying things to get a reaction, but it still felt like the truth to Arthur. He stared emptily down at his lap, laughter from the other end of the table indicating that his exchange with Peter had gone unnoticed.

It seemed that Arthur wasn't the only one pretending to eat, and he watched as his father pushed his fork around, but never brought it to his lips. The longer he watched, the more he realized that the only thing he had seen his father partake of was a cup of dark tea that a maid had brought him, something different than the tangerine and lavender flavoured water that had been served to everyone else, chilled and sweet. Arthur didn't understand why, knowing that as regimented as his father was, he had always had an appetite, and an off feeling compounded his foul mood.

He didn't speak for the rest of the evening unless he was asked a direct question, and suffered through a kiss on the cheek from his mother when goodnights were said. Alfred noticed his change in mood and declined the servants' offers to escort him back to the guest suite, saying he had something to discuss with Arthur in private. He followed Arthur to his bedroom door, and looked up and down the hall to make sure no one was around.

"Arthur, what's wrong? You seem-"

"I'm tired, that's all."

Alfred pressed his lips together and looked over his shoulder again before drawing Arthur into a hug. This wasn't his normal, friendly greeting, the arms wrapped low around Arthur's waist and the pull into his chest indicating that this was just for them and no one else. Arthur turned his face in towards Alfred's neck and let himself be comforted for a moment before stepping away. Still looking worried, Alfred shuffled his feet and opened his mouth a few times, as if struggling to find the right words. Finally he looked back up at Arthur with a pained smile.

"I love you, you know."

That should have made Arthur's heart race and his cheeks get pink, it should have made him feel giddy and warm, but it only made him more miserable and hollow.

"I'm fine, Alfred, really. I just need some rest."

"All right. I'll leave you to it, then." Alfred didn't sound convinced, and even worse, it was obvious that he was disappointed that Arthur had chosen, yet again, not to return his declaration. He was about to turn away, but looked up and down the hall one last time instead before kissing Arthur. This time it was his hands in Arthur's hair instead of the other way around and Arthur was confused by the sudden desperation in his kiss, the way Alfred was pressed so tightly against him that he wasn't sure whose lips were moving anymore. Arthur grappled for the doorknob, intent on wrenching his room open and pulling Alfred inside.

But he couldn't. Not when, even in a sudden burst of passion, Alfred's kiss was so pure and good. He wasn't kissing Arthur this way because he wanted the heavy-handed, chaotic love-making that Arthur did- he was doing it because he didn't know how else to comfort Arthur. Even in his indecency, Alfred was too kind, and it made Arthur sick. He pulled away panting, and turned the doorknob.

"Goodnight, Alfred."

* * *

><p>The rain didn't stop for two days, and even then the sky remained dark and oppressive. Thunder storms the third night made it impossible for Alfred to sleep. He'd never been afraid of thunder, but there was something ominous about the low rumbles that made his skin crawl and shiver despite the cloying heat. Alfred was tempted to sneak down to Arthur's room and sleep there, but it wouldn't do to have some maid walk in and see them together. As far as Arthur's parent knew, as far as <em>anyone<em> knew (with the exceptions of Francis and Gilbert), he and Arthur were friends only. He knew that Arthur wished their relationship to remain private, but seeing him so sad and withdrawn since their arrival made Alfred want to be by his side as much as possible.

Alfred liked Arthur's family, especially his mother and William; he couldn't quite read his father yet, but he had been nothing but hospitable to Alfred so far. The only drawback to staying with Arthur's family was that Alfred couldn't be himself around Arthur. He couldn't tease him or touch him, they had almost no time together, and he missed seeing Arthur smile and hearing him laugh.

This entire trip was supposed to be about rediscovering Arthur's Gift, but it was quickly becoming a test in patience and polite parlour conversation. Alfred didn't know how many more times he could remark on the weather or compliment the host and hostess before he would scream, so when the skies cleared even slightly, the first thing he did was ask Arthur for a tour of the grounds.

Most of the lawns were still a soggy mess, so Arthur took him down a stone pathway flanked by columns and covered by a canopy of wisteria. The lavender blossoms were new and thick, looking only a little worse for wear thanks to the rain, but it was a charming walk down to connecting gazebo.

They sat quietly on one of the stone benches inside the gazebo for a while, listening to birds chirp warily and warm winds rustle the drooping vines. Arthur didn't seem forthcoming with any conversation, so Alfred cleared his throat.

"Do you feel anything?"

"Pardon?"

"Your Gift. Do you feel anything, now that we're out here?" He gestured vaguely to their surroundings and watched as Arthur took stock of himself with a strange sigh.

"No. Well, yes. It's like buzzing. My head hurts and I hear this tiny buzzing noise." Arthur winced and sighed through his nose a second time. "Cloudy. I feel cloudy."

"Will it get better?"

"I don't know!" Arthur snapped at him and glared, but his anger broke down when his eyes met Alfred's, and Alfred didn't know what he could do other than watch as Arthur stifled a sob and put his head in his hands. "I don't know."

"Arthur, it's going to be fine! We still have a week. That's plenty of time to figure all this out!" He put an arm around Arthur's slumped shoulders and pulled him into his chest, feeling awkward but knowing that all he could do was try his best to offer comfort.

"But it's not just that!" Arthur's voice kept breaking, but he wasn't crying. Alfred didn't know if he could handle seeing Arthur cry again; he wouldn't have any idea what to do. "It's this place and my father and my mother and Council and everything and I don't know what I'm going to do!"

Alfred was awful with words, but decent with gestures, so he did the best he could to soothe Arthur physically, letting him rest his head on his shoulder, holding him close to his side, clutching his hand supportively. The past few days had taught Alfred that he was no good at making Arthur feel better, that he had no idea what he needed or what he was thinking. He knew he should ask, that he should make Arthur talk that he should talk back, but it was hard when Arthur decided to retreat to that place inside of himself where Alfred had never been allowed. He couldn't reach him there, not now, not when they were children and Alfred hadn't understood that Arthur's friendship was being withheld not out of spite, but because Arthur had been in shock over the forces that altered his life forever. How different would Arthur be if he had never been chosen as the next Queen? Would he be anything like himself, the Arthur that Alfred was stupidly in love with, or would he be the quiet, grey thing he was now? Alfred kissed Arthur's forehead worriedly and tried to think the situation through logically.

"All right. One thing at a time. Your Gift. Is there any chance that there's even anything to see right now?"

Arthur sniffled, but was still refusing to breakdown. "Probably not. With the weather being like it was, they're not likely to be out. They'll be somewhere safe. Their homes, nests, something."

"Then we can't worry about that right now. If your headache is so bad, we should ask your mother for something to treat it." Alfred took a deep breath and mentally checked that off the list of things to be dealt with. "Council is months away, and we're already working on it. There's nothing to do with that until we get back, so we shouldn't worry about that either, right?"

"Right."

The last problem was something Alfred still didn't understand, but he pressed forward anyway. "Now your father... I can tell he's hard on you, but-

"I think he's sick."

"What?" Alfred was taken aback by the sudden admission.

"I don't know, it's just things I've noticed."

"Like?"

"He doesn't eat much at meals. And he drinks nothing but tea- special tea the maid brings him, not what we drink. Haven't you noticed?"

"No." Alfred honestly hadn't, and he still didn't see how any of this indicated Lord Kirkland was ill.

"I think it's medicinal. Why else would he drink something different? And his hair. His hair has gotten so grey all of a sudden."

"Arthur, it's been a couple of years since you last saw him. Of course his hair would be grey. I don't think that means he's sick!"

"But the tea-"

"It could just be a supplement. Like the gross powder the physician made us put in our milk so we wouldn't get sick during winter when we were younger. It doesn't mean anything."

Arthur looked up, a tiny relieved smile crossing his lips, and Alfred basked in it, glad he had said the right thing for once. " You really think so?"

"Of course! And if something was wrong, you don't think your mother would have told you? Or William? Arthur, he's fine."

Arthur nodded slowly but didn't say anything.

" I don't know what it was like for you growing up Arthur, but from what I've seen, your parents love you. Maybe your father's a little rough, but they both love you."

Another smile flitted across Arthur's lips and he reached out to trace the arch of Alfred's cheekbone. "Not like you do."

Alfred jerked back in surprise, but felt a happy lightness take over at the thought that Arthur was referring openly to Alfred's affection, and was maybe about to admit his own.

"Of course not. No one's going to love you like I do."

"I'd be damn well spoiled if anyone else did." Arthur laughed.

Feeling that that was as close to a confession as Alfred was likely to get for the moment, he kissed Arthur chastely, still aware that they should refrain from such displays of affection, but unable to let the moment slip away. Arthur felt the same, if the intensity with which he returned the kiss was anything to go by. It wasn't like in the carriage: frustrated and aggressive; nor was it like their first night in the manor house, when Arthur hadn't been totally present for the kiss, faraway and unmoving, mind whirring so fast that Alfred could have sworn he could hear him thinking. Now there was no rush, no panic, no hoarding of sensations, just the pressure itself, warm and sweet.

Alfred let his eyes close as he felt Arthur's gentle exhale on the corner of his mouth, waiting only a fraction of a second before he blindly sought out another kiss. It was easy, with Arthur's hands in his hair and guiding him this way and that so that there was no ugly collisions of noses or teeth or Alfred's spectacles. He was getting lost in the need to continue, curling up in the comfort of touching and being touched and it was almost without his permission that his hands moved up Arthur's sides, stroking beneath the waistcoat that had long ago been unbuttoned because of the heat. Alfred could feel the breath get caught in Arthur's throat for a moment before he let out a conservative groan, and Alfred opened his eyes again to watch. Arthur licked his lips and swallowed, either trying to calm himself down or wondering if he was allowed to escalate their situation.

"Maybe we should stop. Your parents-"

"I don't care. Not right now, I-" Arthur shook his head and let his hands fall to Alfred's shoulders. "I don't care."

Arthur's words stirred a heat up in Alfred's chest, and instead of worrying about the neat division between temptation and reality, he let it carry him forward. This time, Arthur's lips were still parted, wet and slow, and Alfred caught the bottom one between his teeth, trying to replicate the intent of what Arthur had tried in the carriage without actually inflicting pain. Gasping into his mouth, Arthur's fingers tangled and pulled at Alfred's hair, and he shivered, his own fingers digging into Arthur's sides. Before he had time to even think about nipping at Arthur again, he felt hot, foreign thickness of Arthur's tongue working against his own and Alfred's face grew so flushed that was sure that Arthur's would come away burned. It was so indecent and embarrassing, but Alfred didn't fight the languid strokes, nor did he help them. He didn't know what to do, other than enjoy the deep kiss, too afraid that his inexperience would ruin everything if he tried to reciprocate.

If Arthur was unhappy with Alfred's passivity, it hardly showed. He stopped kissing Alfred only long enough to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand and reach out to take Alfred's spectacles off. Alfred grinned stupidly as he did, and awaited what he was sure would be more daring embraces, but the only thing Arthur did was furrow his brow, look at the spectacles in his hand and then back at Alfred. He seemed confused and cupped Alfred's cheek warily, appraising his face before tracing lightly over his forehead, the curve of his brow and down to his chin. Whatever inner conflict Arthur was dealing with was ended as soon as Alfred tried to open his mouth to question it. He placed the spectacles in Alfred's lap, stood, and began buttoning his waistcoat.

"We should get back inside. You're right. My parents will send someone for us soon anyway. Best not to be caught."

Alfred fumbled with his spectacles for a moment and stood as well, awkwardly tugging at his clothing and smoothing his hair flat again. "Oh, uh, all right.

He had no idea what he'd done or what Arthur had seen in his face that had made him stop, but Alfred found he couldn't be too disheartened when Arthur turned and held out his hand. Alfred took it, and Arthur smiled a strange, knowing smile, not letting go of his hand until they got within sight of the manor house windows.

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry I can't stay for the remainder of your visit, your Highness, but duty calls," William said with a quick bow.<p>

Alfred grinned and got up from his seat next to Arthur on the sofa, laying his hand of cards on the low parlour table.

"I told you to call me Alfred!" He shook William's hand cheerfully. Alfred liked Arthur's older brother; he was outgoing and had a good sense of humour, and Alfred wished he had had more time to get to know him and perhaps learn more about what Arthur had been like before he had come to the palace. "It was a pleasure to meet you! You'll come to the palace soon, won't you?"

William smiled brilliantly, but still lowered his eyes when he talked to Alfred. "For your coronation, of course. Not sure if I'll be able to visit before then."

"Well, you're welcome at any time. I swear it. Besides, I'm sure Arthur would like to see more of you, and have some news from home." Alfred grinned over his shoulder at Arthur who rolled his eyes and scowled over his cards.

"Nah, Arthur's too delicate to appreciate my finer charms," William teased, ruffling his brother's hair. Alfred could tell that Arthur was itching to swat at him, but was on his best behaviour with his mother watching. "Father wants you in his study, by the way."

"Now?" Alfred could see Arthur begin to panic, probably going through a mental list of anything he could have done to earn his father's ire. "What for?"

"He didn't tell me, genius. Just wants you soon, he said." William walked over to where his mother sat, and kissed her on the cheek. "Goodbye, mother. I'll see you in a few days."

"Be safe", she murmured and kissed him back, rubbing the tiny mark left behind by her lip rouge with gentle fingers.

William snorted and crossed to the door. "Not if I can help it!" He departed with another bow of the head to Alfred and an exaggerated bend at the waist towards Arthur, who sneered, unamused.

"You'd best go if your father wants you, Arthur dear." Arthur's mother smiled sweetly, but her voice was warning, and Arthur stood right away.

"Yes, of course. Excuse me."

The silence after Arthur's departure was deafening, and Alfred realized this was the first time he had been alone with either one of Arthur's parents during their visit. He smiled nervously at Lady Kirkland and gathered up his and Arthur's cards, reshuffling the deck.

"Shall I lay out another game, Lady Kirkland?"

She reached across the table and stopped his hands with a light pat and indicated he should put the cards down. "No, let's chat, you and I."

"Oh. All right." Alfred waited for her to continue but she only pursed her lips and shifted in her chair. "About what?"

After a moment's hesitation, she looked at Alfred sheepishly, as if she knew shouldn't say what she was about to and said, "Arthur."

"Oh."

"Yes."

Another interminable silence descended until Alfred forced himself to interrupt it.

"Was there something you wanted to know, or-"

"Yes! Well, er, that is... how are you both... _getting along_?"

Knowing he had to be careful of what he said next, Alfred smiled as charmingly as he could and forced himself to appear relaxed. "Wonderfully! We're such good friends, and we work well together. Yao has prepared us well for when we are both crowned."

"Is that all?"

"What?"

Lady Kirkland tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and bit her lip, and Alfred saw what she might have been like as a younger woman- flighty, withdrawn and unsure, an exact duplicate of Arthur. She shook her head as if to rearrange her thoughts, then tried to look at Alfred once more.

"I just thought it might be _more_ than that."

The smile slipped from Alfred's face and he understood what she was asking. She as well as knew the answer anyway, but she was still asking, and Alfred couldn't find it in himself to lie.

"Lady Kirkland, I love your son very much. That is, I'm _in love _with him."

She exhaled dazedly and whispered, "Oh, I _thought _you might be."

"I know this must be upsetting to you and-"

"No! No! It's- I hoped it would be like this!"

"What?"

Lady Kirkland wrung her hands together and then pressed her fingertips to her flushed cheeks, and Alfred again saw a flash of Arthur in the movements. She was smiling, almost painfully, it seemed and laughed to herself.

"You must think I'm mad! Well, let me explain. I've often thought that I haven't been a good mother for Arthur, that I didn't know what to do with him." Alfred opened his mouth to disagree, but she held up her finger to stop him. "No, your Highness, I apologize, but let me finish. I always wanted girls, you see, but I've been blessed with nothing but boys, and I don't think I've ever understood how to raise one. But Arthur, he was so tiny and fragile, and I thought, yes, this I can handle. He would be _my_ boy." She was speaking so fast that she had to press a hand to her chest and breathe for a moment before continuing. "I taught him everything I could, I begged his father to let me keep at home and tutor him myself, taught him the violin and read him stories and-"

"And about the Gift?"

"You know about that?" She was breathless again, and genuinely shocked.

"Yes. Arthur told me. He told me you had it when you were younger, too."

"And that was just another thing I failed him in. I couldn't see what he saw."

Alfred wanted to reach across the table to comfort her, but didn't know how. "No, I don't think you've failed him at all! He's only ever said good things about you! And I don't see what any of this has to do with me."

Lady Kirkland cleared her throat and spread her hands on her lap. "Arthur's always been the quiet sort, yes? He wasn't always. Not at first. When he was born, he cried and cried for so long the midwife thought he would die from not breathing properly. Nothing I did could stop it. He wouldn't sleep, he barely ate; he just screamed like he needed something in the worst way. Eventually, I couldn't stop crying either- I was so tired and frightened- and he just looked up at me, looked at me crying, and I think somehow he knew that whatever it was he needed, he wasn't going to get it from me."

"I don't understand." Alfred swallowed thickly, distraught and uncomfortable from the horrific image Lady Kirkland had painted.

"He's stopped crying. He's so quiet now that I almost miss when he was a baby. But I don't think he's ever stopped screaming for whatever it was he needed. His Gift gave it to him for a little while, I think, but then we sent him off and took that from him, too." She brushed the back of her hand along her eyes and Alfred realized she was close to tears. "Your Highness, forgive me for being presumptuous, but I've seen the way you look at him and I think you're the only one who _can_ give him what he needs."

Alfred's heart started racing, but he didn't know if it was from elation or terror. He thought back to every time he'd ever made Arthur upset or hurt him without knowing and shook his head. "What if I don't know what that is either?"

"You have to try. Please." Lady Kirkland rose and sat next to Alfred on the sofa, clutching his hands in hers. "I know it's not fair and that you're both so young, but you've already done more for him than I ever could. Just try."

All Alfred wanted to do was escape and think before he gave his answer, but seeing Arthur's mother so upset, imagining Arthur so hurt and helpless, kept him from pulling away. He'd already planned on loving Arthur for a lifetime, which was nothing less than what Lady Kirkland was asking of him, but for the first time he considered what it would truly mean to take Arthur as his partner in every way. What if he wasn't good enough, what if just loving wasn't enough to make things work?

Alfred barely got the words "I will" out before Arthur's mother had pulled him close and was thanking him profusely.

* * *

><p>Arthur took as much time walking to his father's study as he could, wracking his brain for what he could have done that would warrant being summoned so abruptly. He paused at the end of the hallway, not wanting to close the final gap between himself and the door, when Peter came bursting out, face tear-stained and red.<p>

"Peter?"

Peter hiccuped and rubbed his face. "Go away, Arthur!" he tried to push past, but Arthur grabbed a hold of him and knelt down to his level.

"Peter, what happened? Did you talk to father? What did he say?"

A brief flash of stony resolve crossed Peter's face and Arthur thought he would try to run away again, but then Peter sobbed violently and curled himself against Arthur's chest. For a few moments Arthur couldn't do anything but stroke his hair and shush him, and he was reminded of the times when he'd had to do the same to Alfred. That made his stomach twist, and he held Peter's face in his hands and tried to wipe away the worst of the tears.

"Tell me what happened, Peter."

Sniffling and stuttering, Peter nodded. "He's mad at me because I'm bad at studies and he says, if I don't try harder, that I won't have a future and I won't-"

Whatever else it was Peter wouldn't have, Arthur never found out, because his brother started crying again, and Arthur had to pull him close to muffle the sound or else be heard by someone else. When Peter had sufficiently calmed himself again, Arthur, put his hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye.

"Now, Peter, you have to listen to me. Sometimes our father seems mean and angry and like he doesn't love us very much, but I promise you it isn't true. He only wants the best for us, and that's why he scolds and makes us work hard. You're a smart boy, Peter, I know you are, so if you try, I'm sure your studies will get better and father will be happy. All right?"

"And then I can be whatever I want?"

"Anything."

"A knight, even?"

Arthur smiled and smoothed down Peter's hair. "Of course. The most brave and clever knight that ever was."

Peter smiled tearfully, but his confidence seemed to return, if only a little bruised. Arthur straightened up and nudged Peter down the hallway.

"Go scrub your face before mother sees you, now. It won't do for you to upset her over something as silly as this."

Wiping his nose on the back of his hand, Peter puffed his chest out and gave a very grown-up nod of his head before turning to walk proudly to his room. Arthur smiled as he watched him go, then turned to face their father himself.

He was called in after a quick knock, and Arthur was greeted with the sight of his father sitting behind his desk, scribbling something into a small leather book. There was an empty chair near Arthur, but he didn't dare sit without being given permission to do so, and he waited silently. It was with a small pang of worry that Arthur noticed the steaming cup of strange, dark tea on his father's desk, as well as some glass vials in the windowed shelf above his head, colours bright and rich. He tried to recall Alfred's reassurances, but he was too nervous and too upset for Peter and too confused over the reality of his father's ageing for it to do any good.

When his father finally looked up, Arthur flinched, but didn't saw anything.

"Arthur, I'm going to get right to the point." His father leaned back in his chair and looked him up and down, not offering the empty seat. "Why haven't you been crowned yet?"

Dumbfounded and caught off guard, Arthur could only manage a querulous noise.

"You're past the age of majority, are you not?"

Forced to find his voice, Arthur choked out, "Yes, sir."

"And you are still contracted to be Queen, are you not?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then why have you not been crowned yet?"

Struggling to find an answer that would please his father, Arthur had nothing left to tell but the truth. "We didn't think it was the right time. We didn't think I was ready."

"We?"

"I." Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I didn't think I was ready. I asked the Jack of Spades to wait until... until after his Highness and I were married, when I would become Queen by default."

"I see." Arthur's father said nothing else, but Arthur could hear the judgements and accusations. He felt himself getting upset and defensive, fists balling up and his sides.

"It's perfectly legal. I can wait if I wa-"

"Oh! _You're_ going to lecture _me _on legality?" He rose and moved around the desk to sit on the edge closest to Arthur. Arthur fought the urge to back away a few steps, and kept his gaze steady and straight ahead. "You do know who am I, don't you? What I did, why you've been so lucky?"

Arthur swallowed and nodded. "Yes. They told me. About the war and the treaty. How you became nobility." He knew he shouldn't say anything else, but he couldn't help the question burning it's way out of his mouth. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

After a brief silence, Arthur's father snorted and crossed his arms. "Because, what did it have to do with you? Those were my accomplishments, not yours. They afforded you a certain lifestyle, certain opportunities, surely, but they are not something for you- or your brothers- to ride on. Let the history books tell you, but I needn't brag about it." He regarded Arthur critically again, then gestured to him wholly. "And what is it that _you've_ accomplished, Arthur? What are you doing with your new status?"

What did he do, other than live a lavish life and write silly letters and sign whatever documents Yao told him to? Arthur knew he was being trapped, but he also knew it would be worse not to answer.

"I am in correspondence with the other Queens. And the Jack allows me to have input on the proposals we will take to Council."

"So, you write letters and do what the Jack tells you all day long?"

That stung Arthur's pride, especially because it was true, and he found himself with a sudden need to sniffle and hang his head. He expected to be ridiculed for showing weakness, but his father only sighed and went back to sit behind his desk.

"Arthur, sit down."

He did as he was told, warily, and watched as his father took a long sip of the dark tea and then ran a hand over his face.

"I have no doubt that you are a clever boy, Arthur; I never have. But you've never been much of a leader, and if you don't think you are prepared enough to be Queen now, what, realistically, is going to change in a year to make you prepared? You're a man now, Arthur. Your training is over. It's time to apply what you know, incite some changes, _be_ a leader."

Arthur was overwhelmed and angry with himself. "I don't know how, sir."

"I can't tell you how to rule a Kingdom. That isn't my role in your life. But what I _can _tell you is that you have to make a mark, you have to do something that people will remember. Whatever that is, only you can discover it. It has to be important to you, important to your people. That's all I want for you to do, Arthur- I want you to do something with your power other than sit idly in comfort and wait out your reign. You've been given a enormous chance to be a better man that I will ever be, and it's killing me that you won't take it."

Killing him. Arthur could almost believe it, and even more shame washed over him. He was right of course- Arthur hadn't done anything worthwhile because he was too afraid to try. But perhaps most terrifying of all was that Alfred had been right; Arthur's father did love him, even if his way of showing it was difficult to swallow.

"Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Arthur let his self-loathing build up to a white hot flame, and then he doused it. He let it die, let it cool, and sat straighter, knowing that this was his only chance of ever being the type of son his father deserved.

"Yes, sir. I understand perfectly."

* * *

><p>"It's now or never, Arthur."<p>

That's what Alfred had kept saying over and over while tugging him out on the lawns, past the gazebo and to the pond where Arthur had told him the faeries sunbathed. And he was right- they would leave in two days, and if Arthur was ever going to know if he still had his Gift, this was the perfect time to find out.

The sky was clear and crisp, the ground had dried, and the heat abated just enough that it could be called beautiful weather, so they sat on the stone bench by the pond and waited. Arthur's headache had fizzled out the day before, and he no longer heard the buzzing, nor felt the cloudiness he had upon arrival. Whether that meant anything good, Arthur didn't know, but he jumped with every twitch of the grass or the sound of wind pushing through the branches of the willow tree.

"Anything?"

"No."

"Do you even feel-"

"No."

Alfred chewed his lip and put his arm around Arthur's shoulder. Arthur felt bad for being snippy, but he was frustrated and nervous. He let himself relax a tiny bit into Alfred's embrace, wary that anyone could see them from one of the upper windows of the manor house.

"You can't call them, or something?"

"How? If they wanted to come out, they would."

"Well, was there something you did before to make them come out?"

Arthur thought for a moment, then shrugged. "They liked when I played the violin, but that's little use to us now."

"Whistle it!"

"What?"

Alfred turned excitedly and pointed at Arthur's mouth. "Whistle something you played a lot, something they might recognize!"

"I don't even know if the same beings live here any more, let alone remember my silly songs!"

"It's worth a try!"

Arthur sighed and tried to think of the song he'd played the most. He finally settled on the tune he'd played the day he'd been called away to the palace, the one he'd improvised on and that the faeries had sung to in their high, unintelligible voices. Knowing this was his last chance, Arthur stood and pursed his lips, the first few notes of the song shaky.

"Keep going!"

He walked beneath the branches of the willow tree as he whistled, peering up into the green canopy for any sign of -there! A tiny golden light darted downwards, and for a moment, Arthur didn't see anything but a blurry wisp. He squinted and put every ounce of concentration into remembering what it felt like to have his Gift until finally the form of a tiny, dark haired faerie came into focus. At first he was so shocked, he stopped whistling and nearly collapsed, but then Alfred was there, holding him up and asking him what was wrong. The faerie, upset by Alfred's brash arrival, clung onto a vine of the willow and watched them suspiciously, and it was all Arthur could do to point.

"There. I see her. I _see_ her! Alfred, I- I can see her and she's real and I still have the Gift! I haven't lost it, I-" Arthur was so overcome with joy that he didn't even think as he flung his arms around Alfred and kissed him. Alfred responded, but lifting him clear off his feet and spinning him around once, laughing like he could see the faerie, too.

"Arthur, that's wonderful! I knew you still had it! I knew!"

Their display of affection seemed to amuse the faerie and she clapped gleefully. Arthur held out his hand to her, and after a moment of hesitation, she floated down onto his palm, bending over to touch his fingers and prod at the lines on his hands.

"Do you have her now?"

"Yes, she's on my hand."

"It's a faerie, right?" There was a touch of fear in Alfred's voice, and Arthur leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"Yes, that's all she is. Nothing scary, I promise."

"And are there others?"

Arthur looked around the pond, and then back up into the tree. Two more faeries were watching them from the branches, both fair-haired and almost identical, whispering in each other's ears familiarly.

"Two more. Up there. I think they're sisters."

Alfred squinted, even though it would do little good. "Oh. What do they look like?"

Arthur tried to be as thorough in his descriptions as he could, detailing how golden the light coming through their wings was, their green dresses made from leaves and grass; that the one on his hand had dressed herself in wisteria blossoms and was singing his song again, content to sit in the palm of his hand. The two still in the tree knew he was talking about them, so he made sure to remark on how beautiful they were, and that set them to giggling. They fluttered down curiously, and after a few cursory circles around Arthur, they took a greater interest in Alfred. One tried to find her reflection in his spectacles, and the other sat herself on his head. Alfred shivered slightly and looked at Arthur.

"I feel weird. Is there something-"

"The two in the tree came down. One's on your head, so don't move too quickly."

Arthur could see Alfred struggled with the urge to bat around his head, so he took one of his hands in his free one and squeezed reassuringly. "They're just curious. They won't hurt you."

"What are they doing?"

The one on his head seemed to be comparing the colour of her flowing locks to Alfred's hair, and then took to running her fingers through his and laying it across her lap like a golden blanket. The other had given up trying to understand his spectacles and was twirling around like a fool and blowing kisses.

"One's playing with your hair. The other is-"

"I can feel her!"

"What, really?"

"Kind of. Just barely. Like a tickle."

Alfred smiled, and Arthur felt like his heart was ready to burst.

"Y'know, I didn't know if I could really believe you, not until right now. I asked Yao before we left, and he said the Gift was real and many people had it, but never talked about it, but I just didn't think-"

"I know. It's all right, I don't blame you. It still must seem impossible to you."

"Not when I can feel her." Alfred beamed again. "What is yours doing? And the other one?"

Arthur looked down at his hand and watched for a moment as the wisteria faerie braided her straight, black hair in complicated knots.

"Mine is braiding her hair. Apparently I'm rather comfortable." Alfred laughed. "The other one near you is in love with you, I'm afraid."

"What?"

Now it was Arthur's turn to laugh. "She keeps blowing you kisses and trying to get your attention. I don't think she's realized you can't see her." The faerie turned abruptly to Arthur, a look of shock and disappointment on her face. "Oh, never mind, she understood me. She's upset over it now. She's very taken with you."

Alfred frowned and looked into the air right in front of his face, unsure where he should address. "Oh, I'm sorry I can't see you! If I could, I'm sure I would think you're beautiful!"

The faerie spun around happily and renewed her admiration with more blown kisses and provocative wiggles that Arthur was sure were more for his benefit than Alfred's. He didn't say anything and went back to watching his faerie braid her hair.

"But even if I could see you, I couldn't love you back."

Arthur looked up in surprise, only to find Alfred's face inches from his own. Alfred smiled and kissed him softly.

"I already love someone, and he's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Tiny face getting red, the faerie made a rude gesture to Arthur, and took off into the tree, dragging her sister with her. Alfred winced as his hair was pulled and looked at Arthur with confusion.

"Oh, well done, Alfred, you've gone and broken the poor thing's heart!"

"Don't pretend you weren't jealous that she liked me!"

"That's ridiculous. You can't even see her! Why would I be jealous?"

A high-pitched giggling reached Arthur's ears and he looked down to his palm to see his faerie rolling with laughter and pointing at the two of them.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure this is all so funny to you!"

She composed herself, wiping away almost invisible diamond tears, then flew up to give Arthur a kiss on the nose. Sparing Alfred a fond look and a shake of her head, she followed the distraught sisters up into the tree until Arthur could no longer see her.

"Are they gone?"

"Yes. Mine went off to comfort the others."

"Good, because I wanted to kiss you again."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but let him, feeling better than he had in weeks. "What's brought all this on? You've been especially good to me these last few days."

Alfred shrugged. "Do I need a reason?"

"No, but that's what's so infuriating."

"And charming."

"That too."

They chuckled softly at their own foolishness, then fell silent, enjoying the peace that came with knowing Arthur wasn't bereft of his Gift forever. Then Alfred cleared his throat and nudged Arthur playfully.

"So what now, your Highness?"

Arthur looked around the pond, the flowerbeds brimming with colour and life, up to the manor house where he had spent more than half his life, but felt nothing other than a stirring of conviction for what he was about to say.

"We go _home_."


	17. Chapter 17

"We're lost!"

"Oh, hush. We are not."

"Yes we are! We're lost and no one will ever be able to find us and we'll have to live on worms and berries!"

Arthur stepped up onto a mossy rock and turned around to look down at Alfred, who was flushed and starting to get sweaty. "We've been out here a half dozen times and we've always come back safely."

"Well, yes, but-"

"You don't trust me?"

"I do, but-"

"Then there's nothing to worry about." Arthur nodded matter-of-factly and hopped off the rock, continuing through the woods in the direction he had been going previously. He heard Alfred sigh childishly behind him, and smiled to himself. Alfred had been the one to suggest searching farther from the shoreline of the lake for any trace of magical creatures, but what he had probably imagined to be frolics through the woods had quickly turned tedious when Alfred had to face the hard truth that he had a terrible sense of direction. Arthur, on the other hand, never got them lost, and that was yet another source of irritation for Alfred and his wounded pride.

"Can you at least tell me what you saw out here so that I know what we are searching for?" Alfred was panting and Arthur had to turn around and wait for him again as he peeled off his jacket.

"No. You'll laugh at me."

"I promise I won't! You know I won't!"

It was probably true, but Alfred still wouldn't be of any help even if he did know what Arthur had seen all those years ago. Arthur looked around one last time, then decided it was far enough for the day and shrugged.

"Never mind, let's just go back, then."

It was a testament to how much Alfred truly did not want to be out in the woods in the summer heat that he didn't even argue, but turned right around and started walking back towards the lake. He was going the wrong direction of course, but Arthur didn't want to make him feel worse, so he just trotted after and took a hold of Alfred's hand to casually steer him onto the right path.

"How far do you think we went today?"

"A little more than a mile, perhaps. Not too far."

"Not far! A mile in and a mile out, and then we still have to walk back through the orchard and the garden and-"

"Well, don't come next time if it's so challenging for you!" Arthur wasn't remotely serious or angry with Alfred, knowing that his sense of duty and devotion would never let him stay pent up in the palace while Arthur trudged about in the wilderness by himself. Not that this wilderness was the least bit wild, but Alfred gripped his hand tighter nonetheless.

"No! I can't let you come out here by yourself! It could be dangerous." Alfred started to walk a little faster and looked back and forth between the trees, as if daring something to leap out at them.

"Yes, of course. We wouldn't want me to get savaged by the greenery or, heaven forbid, a rabid bunny."

"I'm being serious! We don't know what's out here, and the farther you go, the greater the possibility that you could get hurt and-"

Arthur patted his arm soothingly to get him to stop rambling. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll ask Yao if anyone ever created a map of this wood. I doubt it's very extensive, considering the proximity to the city, so perhaps there will be a landmark or something we can search." Arthur doubted there would be anything helpful; it wasn't as if there would be a big red X on any map saying _faeries found here_.

"That might be a good idea, so we don't end up wandering in circles."

"And have to live off worms and berries?" Arthur teased, and Alfred laughed.

"Sorry. I was being ridiculous, wasn't I?"

"No more than usual." Arthur broke their stride to kiss Alfred's cheek, and their walk became much more leisurely.

The hike out of the woods seemed to take less time than the trek in, and before long Arthur could see the faint glimmering of water between the trees. Alfred sped up, encouraged by the cooler, fresher air, but Arthur saw where his feet were headed and pulled him to a stop.

"What's the matter?"

"You can't step there," Arthur insisted, pointing to the circle of mushrooms wide enough to sit in. "It's a faerie ring."

Alfred looked at the ground and adjusted his spectacles. "They're just mushrooms, Arthur."

"That's not what the books say. They're faerie rings, portals to their secret world, or else they make their houses from them and it's bad luck to ruin them."

Alfred was quiet for a moment before he took both of Arthur's hands in his own. "Do you see anything?"

"No."

"Do you feel anything?"

"N-no."

"Have you felt anything the entire time we've been out here?"

"No," Arthur admitted begrudgingly and hung his head. "The farther we go, the closer I feel to feeling something, but it's not the same."

"Then they're just mushrooms, Arthur." Alfred tried to say it gently, but it still hurt and Arthur pulled away and walked the remaining ten yards out of the woods and onto the grassy bank of the lake, giving the faerie ring a wide berth. He didn't bother to watch if Alfred would do the same, and kicked off his shoes and stockings, rolling up his trousers so he could soak his sore feet in the cool of the water.

It wasn't Alfred's fault he couldn't see anything here, if there was anything to be seen, but his immediate reaction of denying the existence of faerie rings was just a reminder that although Alfred believed Arthur had the Gift, he didn't necessarily believe in any of the things Arthur did. Arthur heard splashing, and then Alfred's arms were around his middle, and Alfred's face was pressed into the crook of his neck, so he felt more than heard his apology.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not fine." Alfred hugged him tighter, as if he could squeeze away Arthur's sadness. "We can try again tomorrow, if you'd like."

"It's your birthday. We should be celebrating, not wandering around out here."

"I've already asked Yao not to do anything special, so I don't mind."

Arthur turned around and shook his head, forcing himself to smile and forget the day's failure. "It might be nice to have a break. There's no sense in obsessing over this until we get a map or at least know how far back the wood goes."

Alfred nodded, but he was still wearing a guilty expression and Arthur didn't want to look at it anymore. He swished his feet around in the water, toeing through the fine, loose sand of the lake. Alfred did the same, rolling his trousers up past his knees so he could go even deeper.

"We should go swimming."

"We told Yao we'd be back in a few hours." Arthur would rather sit in the water all day than pore over documents and agendas for Council, but he had important business to address with Yao. Now that he knew he still had his Gift, he wanted more information and after an extensive search of the library had yielded poor results, he realized he would have to ask for it from the other Kingdoms. He wasn't sure how sensitive of a subject it would be, but he had to know more before the rest of his idea could come to fruition.

Alfred bent down and gathered a handful of water, splashing it into the air and letting the droplets fall back down onto his face and arms. "No one's come looking for us! It's not as though we're missed," he whined, with a dog-like shake of his head.

"That's all very well until someone _does _come looking and finds us naked in the lake!"

"Who said anything about being naked?" Alfred smirked at him and stuck his tongue out between his teeth, which looked ridiculous since his spectacles were spotted with water.

"I meant it figuratively," Arthur amended, and kicked water at Alfred.

"Oh, _of course _you did. Dainty, _proper_ Arthur would never think of being _literally _naked," Alfred chirped in sing-song voice and kicked back.

Arthur blushed, but scooped up a handful of water and threw it at Alfred. "I'll show you dainty!"

Not one to take a direct attack lightly, Alfred returned the splash, and a vigorous water battle ensued. Arthur escaped with little more than his jacket and the hem of his trousers wet, but Alfred was not so lucky, and his unprotected shirt was splotched with water and dripping at the cuffs. He put up his hands to call for a ceasefire, and Arthur dropped his joined handful of water, feeling magnanimous in his victory.

"Truce?" Alfred extended a hand, which Arthur promptly shook.

They were both giggly and Arthur felt light-headed, so it caught him off guard when he was yanked forward and manhandled until he was lifted halfway over Alfred's shoulder and could do nothing but kick his feet and squawk indignantly.

"Wha-? Put me down!"

Alfred laughed, but he was struggling noticeably with Arthur's weight and wiggling.

"Say we don't have to go back for a while or I'll dump you right in the water!" He managed to trudge a few paces deeper into the water and Arthur squirmed more desperately.

"You said truce!"

"I lied!"

Arthur got one of his hands free and tried to claw at the arm wrapped firmly around his backside, but that only made Alfred feign dropping him, and he let out an embarrassing screech. "Don't you dare! If you drop me, you're dead!"

"It's only water!"

"Don't!"

"You aren't made of sugar! You won't melt!"

"Alfred!"

"Say we don't have to go back!" Alfred jolted him again, and Arthur swatted at him once before admitting defeat.

"Fine. We can stay out long enough to get dry, and _then _we'll go back. Now put me down! On land, if you please!"

Alfred cheered and placed Arthur on the damp shore of the lake, not letting him go until Arthur allowed him a quick kiss. Arthur shoved Alfred off of him after that and only half-jokingly punched him in the arm before stomping over to the tree under which they had discarded their shoes and stockings, and Alfred his jacket. He sat down with a huff, back against the cool, rough bark, and crossed his arms.

"How long are you going to pretend to be mad at me?" Alfred wrung out the lower half of his sleeves as he approached.

"Who's pretending?"

"You are. Badly. You're already smiling!"

Arthur felt his lips twitch even farther up, and he tried to clamp down on his faux-anger, sending Alfred what he hoped was a convincing glare.

"If you keep making that face, it may get stuck that way." Alfred nudged at Arthur's left foot with his own, continuing until Arthur's legs were spread in a wide V. "I'd still like you, but Yao might find it upsetting."

Arthur had little choice but to laugh at that and stuck his tongue out, and Alfred did the same before turning around to seat himself between Arthur's legs, slouching with his back against Arthur's chest.

"Ugh! You're too heavy!" Arthur whined and prodded at Alfred's sides until he was twitching and twisting, but he didn't move from his spot.

"I am not!" he whined breathlessly and caught hold of Arthur's hands, pulling at them until Arthur had his arms wrapped low around Alfred's middle. Arthur was loathe to admit that it felt nice to have him close like this, to be the one doing the holding. He was heavy, but it was a pleasant weight, something solid and comforting that Arthur could get addicted to being under. That thought started innocently enough, but he considered it further and made himself a giddy kind of uncomfortable.

"No, you're not. You're just right." Arthur could have kicked himself for being sentimental, but it made Alfred sigh happily and relax against him. It was too warm to be sharing body heat, but Arthur imagined he could gladly be swallowed up in that as well. Contentment came easier now that he'd started putting the past as far behind him as he could. There had been a great sense of closure upon leaving his parents' home and returning to the palace; he could breathe and smile and look forward to Yao's lecturing and Alfred's kisses. He appreciated the life he had been assigned to much more than he had ever thought he would. If his twelve year old self could have seen him, Arthur was sure it would have been more than a shock.

"We're never going to get dry like this," he murmured into Alfred's ear, but laid his cheek against the top of his head because he didn't care.

"Good." Alfred's voice was thick and he yawned and he stroked absentmindedly up and down what he could reach of Arthur's legs. It tickled even through fabric, and Arthur felt a thin shiver dance up his spine.

"Don't fall asleep. We have to go back soon."

"Back, back, back. We always have to go back. Yao probably likes it when we're gone."

Arthur snorted and poked Alfred's belly lightly. "No, he'd probably like me to be crowned so he only had to run after you all day."

"Hmmm." Alfred jumped a little at the poke, then took one of Arthur's hands and laced their fingers together, examining the bumpy result. "Do you think you'll be ready in a year? To rule, I mean?"

"I don't know. That is, I think so, but I don't think I'll ever feel sure," Arthur admitted quietly and gave Alfred's hand a squeeze. "Why? Do you?"

Alfred didn't respond for a while, flexing his fingers between Arthur's, then disentangling them. He moved so he could turn his head and look up at Arthur. "I don't know either."

"Are you... are you worried about it?"

"Sometimes. Yes. I don't know. I don't think Yao would let me rule if I was going to be awful at it, but what if I turn out awful anyway?" Alfred was still looking up at him and Arthur was at a loss for words. It was so unusual for Alfred to profess doubt, especially self-doubt, that Arthur didn't know what he could do to make it better. He was terrible at being reassuring, uncomfortable with the sharing of emotion even if he trusted Alfred. And still Alfred was looking at him for that comfort, that openness that made Arthur want to shove him away and retreat. It wasn't fair. Alfred was asking for something Arthur didn't understand how to give, and Arthur was so afraid of trying and failing and they both knew it.

"You won't be awful. I promise." It was the best he could come up with, but it still made Alfred smile a tiny bit and crane for a kiss. That at least Arthur knew how to do, and he tried to convey how much he believed what he'd said through the tender movement of his mouth and the tightening of his arms around Alfred's middle. Alfred was too good to be awful at anything. He wanted to be good too badly to be awful, and Arthur both admired and was jealous of that. The best he could ever hope for was to not be hated, but Alfred aspired to be loved, and he would be.

Arthur felt Alfred's soft exhale against his cheek, and the parting of his lips as he inhaled, inviting Arthur in. He waited, though, letting Alfred decide to slide his tongue unhurriedly into Arthur's mouth. How Alfred managed to make the kiss unassuming Arthur didn't know, but there was an intolerable sweetness to the feeling of wet muscle moving gently against his own tongue and Arthur felt his belly tightening for want of more. Alfred pulled back and smiled, licking his bottom lip, and Arthur found himself mirroring the action just because it was so hypnotic and tantalizing. A small part of his brain was warning him that something was wrong if this was what they resorted to every time one of them was upset, but the heat in his cheeks burned away any thought that was not pleasure.

Alfred turned around so that he was on his knees between Arthur's legs and had to bend to kiss him again. Arthur didn't move for fear of doing something wrong, instead letting Alfred press closer and kiss deeper.

"You really think I'll be a good King?" Alfred half-mouthed against his ear, and Arthur sluggishly registered that it was question he should answer.

"Yes." The word was barely past his lips before Alfred was devouring it, swallowing it, and Arthur was pushed harder into the tree. He tried to keep his hands pressed to the root-riddled grass but the temptation to touch was too great and he gripped at Alfred's sides. It was appreciated, apparently, and Alfred gasped against his lower lip and chin, one of his hands moving to brace himself against the trunk of the tree by Arthur's head, and other pressing into Arthur's thigh. When he had regained control of himself, Alfred pulled away and made to take off his spectacles, but Arthur shook his head.

"Leave them on." Alfred, blessedly, did not argue. It was just that he looked too young without them, and Arthur already felt a twinge of guilt as he massaged the childish softness of Alfred's abdomen. Even through the heat and shiver of their actions, Arthur couldn't help but to remind himself that Alfred wouldn't even be fifteen until the next day. This could be considered wrong, premature at the very least, but then Alfred's mouth was against his neck, and he wondered when he had become so bold, young or not.

It was different, being kissed there- warmer and more sensitive than the lips, cheek or forehead. And it wasn't just the kiss itself, but Alfred's breath, the brush of his nose and hair, the contrasting metallic coolness of his spectacles; it all made Arthur tremble and groan, which only encouraged Alfred to torture him further.

A few more gentle kisses and nuzzles, and then Arthur felt the damp drag of Alfred's tongue over his pulse. Alfred blew on the wet skin and Arthur shuddered violently, head lolling forward to rest on Alfred's shoulder. It was a terrible angle for Alfred, but Arthur didn't care. One of Alfred's hands was on each of Arthur's thighs now, and the pressure was almost painful, so Arthur retaliated by finding skin beneath Alfred's untucked shirt and digging his fingertips in. Alfred responded with a his own groan, sounding so much deeper and richer because it was right in Arthur's ear, and then Arthur felt the nip of teeth against his neck. He gasped, and his nails raked down Alfred's sides, vaguely aware of how that made his muscles jerk and tense. Alfred bit him again, harder this time, and Arthur bit into his shoulder, mouth full of the fabric of his shirt.

Their breathing was rapid and uneven, Alfred's hot and dewy against Arthur's neck, and Arthur's smothered into Alfred's shoulder. Arthur stroked down Alfred's sides one last time before his hands gripped low on his hips, thumbs tracing the outline of bone and either side of the buttons to his trousers. Alfred didn't seem affected, so Arthur did it again, applying more pressure to the slight give of the slope just above his groin.

Alfred grabbed Arthur's wrists suddenly and didn't move for a moment. Arthur thought he might move his hands somewhere else, somewhere better, but all he did was shove them off and sit back on his heels awkwardly, an almost panicked expression on his face. It was rejection again, Arthur realized and he felt a surge of anger and shame rise from his belly and extinguish any of the pleasure he'd felt before. He pushed Alfred over unkindly and fumbled to put on his stockings and shoes, tripping away with them half on as Alfred scrambled to right himself.

"Arthur! Wait, I-"

"No! Don't, Alfred."

"I'm sorry!" Alfred was trying to dress himself to keep up with Arthur, but stumbled badly onto his hands and knees. "Shit!"

Arthur had his shoes on and was already walking away by the time Alfred caught up with him, jacket still in hand and shirt untucked.

"Arthur, it it's not that I don't want... please, Arthur don't be mad at me!"

He wasn't mad, not at Alfred, but he still balled his fists up as he whirled around. "I'm not mad! I'm just," he struggled for a word that could encompass the hurt and the guilt and the need and came up with nothing better than, "frustrated."

Alfred looked like he might cry, and shifted his weight from foot to foot. "So am I," he said, miserable and soft. He was pleading Arthur with his eyes to understand, but Arthur didn't have the capacity for anything other than his own upset.

"Then why do you always... never mind." It didn't matter why. Rejection was the same no matter the reason. "Let's just go back."

Alfred chewed his bottom lip, then opened his mouth to say something, but ultimately chose to nod and put on his jacket.

The walk back to the palace was long and silent. They parted ways as soon as they were indoors, not saying a word, not even looking at one another. For once Arthur was grateful that Anne was not in his quarters straightening things up or waiting for his orders. He wanted to be as alone as he felt.

Just when Arthur had thought he and Alfred were making progress, he had to do something stupid to remind them both that they had no idea how to maintain a functional romance.

* * *

><p>"Oh, will this day never end?" Matthew called into the sky dramatically when he caught sight of Alfred walking between the rows of stalls to speak with him. He had a bruise under his eye, a split and swollen bottom lip and Alfred could see dingy bandages wrapped around two of the fingers on his right hand.<p>

"What do you mean? What happened to you?" Alfred reached for Matthew's hand to inspect the damage, but he was brushed off and Matthew bent to gather a wooden bucket and a coil of rope.

"Arthur's already been down here this morning," Matthew explained, but ignored the second question. "Let's go somewhere else to talk." He didn't wait for Alfred's response nor for him to fall in stride with him, taking off for a storage room to deposit his items.

"Wait! Arthur's already been here? Did he tell you-"

"Yes. He told me, in his stupid roundabout way, but I got enough to know you're both idiots." Alfred was taken aback by Matthew's demeanour. He'd never been particularly tender with Alfred, preferring to deal with him bluntly, but he'd never snapped so viciously either. By the time Matthew had put away his bucket and rope and marched down the path to the hay barn, Alfred was trotting to keep up and running out of breath.

It as warm and dusty in the barn, a sweet, old smell filling the dry air. Matthew hoisted himself up onto one of the higher stacks of bales and didn't say anything while Alfred decided where he would sit. The fat, white cat was lounging belly-up on one of the lower stacks, so Alfred joined him and poked into the long fur with a soft straw of hay, smiling when the cat wiggled and purred. The cat's face was thinning and his dark ruff had streaks of silver in it; he was getting old, and Alfred felt a twinge of sadness knowing that he probably wouldn't be around in a few years' time. He'd grown up seeing the silly cats running around in the garden and occasionally sneaking into the palace and it was strange to think of a day when they wouldn't be there. It was ridiculous, but playing with the ageing cat made Alfred feel old as well, even if he was only fifteen.

"Did you come to play with the cat or did you want something else?" Matthew was rewrapping his fingers none too gently, and the harsh edge was still thick in his voice.

"No, well, uh... if Arthur already told you then-"

"You want to know what you should do." He stared down at Alfred, and Alfred had to look away for a few moments because he felt so uncomfortable.

"Yes. I do. I keep ruining everything but I don't know how to make myself-"

"Stop. Stop right there." Matthew licked his bottom lip and worried the cut while he ran both his hands through his hair. He let his hands fall to his thighs with a loud thud, then leaned forward. "You should not have to make yourself do anything. Stop worrying about what you should be doing and do what you feel like doing. Do you understand?"

Alfred scrunched up his nose and shook his head. "But there's a way all this is supposed to happen. There are normal things, I mean, things that normal couples do when they're courting, aren't there?"

"Maybe, but you and Arthur aren't normal. What do _you_ want to do?"

He tickled the cat again to stall for time while he tried to think of a way to explain himself without being embarrassed by the conversation. Matthew had talked to him about sex before, of course, but none of it had been personal for Alfred. Talking about Arthur, and knowing that Arthur had talked about him, made the entire situation distressing. It seemed even the cat was against him, abandoning Alfred to tackle the orange flop-eared cat when he popped out from behind a bin. They tussled on the packed dirt floor for a while until the flop-eared cat bit his playmate's scruff and they settled to grooming themselves. Alfred looked at his hands for a little while longer, and mercifully Matthew did not press him to answer.

"I want the same things Arthur does," he said, finally. He meant it honestly, even if it made his face heat up and he worried that Matthew would judge him.

"But?"

"But I don't know."

Matthew sighed loudly through his nose and jumped from his perch. He sat down next to Alfred, and out of the corner of his eye, Alfred saw him move as if to put his arm around him, and then think better of it and fold his hands in his lap. "What scares you?"

"I am not scared!" Alfred protested, but Matthew's level look wore him down. "I just don't want to do anything wrong or make mistakes or be terrible at it, all right?"

"Do you really think Arthur would love you any less if you did make a mistake?"

That question made Alfred's stomach do a painful flip. "Does he, though? He never... did he say that to you?"

Matthew shook his head and gave Alfred a pitying smile. "You know Arthur. He'd deny the sky was blue if it somehow saved him embarrassment. He's not as quick to throw his words around as you are. He's cautious, but he's not playing you false, Alfred, I promise."

"I know. It just-"

"Hurts?"

"Sometimes." Alfred drew one of knees up onto the hay bale and rested his chin on it, trying not to pout. It did hurt him that Arthur had a hard time expressing how he felt. Alfred had a hard time with that too, but he was younger and felt like he had an excuse. The difference was he still tried. He didn't feel unloved, or unwanted. In all truthfulness, he'd never felt more loved or more worthy than when Arthur was holding and kissing him, but that feeling was so strong that he had to pull away. Matthew was right; he was terrified. "I know that's just how he is, though. It will get better, won't it?"

"Only if you talk about it." Matthew flexed and fisted his hurt hand repeatedly as he spoke. "You can't expect him to know how you feel anymore than you can know what's going on in his head. Neither of you are mind-readers."

"But we're both idiots." Alfred smiled a little. "So, I'm an idiot for being afraid of what I want, and Arthur's an idiot because...?"

"I'll let him tell you himself. It's not my place to fight your battles for you. I have my own to take care of." His voice trailed off on the last sentence, low and half to himself. Alfred grabbed his wrist, not letting him pull away until he had turned his hand over several times. In addition to the wrapped fingers, there was an ugly swelling across his knuckles, and a cut on his ring finger that looked suspiciously like the indent of a tooth. He'd thrown a punch, a bad one by the looks of it, and then been repaid in kind.

"What happened to you?"

Matthew pulled his hand away gruffly and worried the cut on his lip again. "Nothing. Just a little scrap, that's all."

"That's not like you, though!" Alfred only knew his half-brother to be gentle and friendly and hardworking, not one to get into fights.

"I didn't start it!" He thumbed away a bit of blood he'd accidentally drew on his lip. "I didn't finish it either. I... no, it's nothing don't worry about it."

"If you don't tell me, I'll tell Yao and he'll question everyone and then you'll both get in trouble for fighting."

"You'd rat me out?" Matthew didn't sound offended, just surprised and amused.

Alfred shrugged. "If it meant the other person got punished, too."

Matthew laughed and shook his head. "Very logical of you. I suppose that's about as much brotherly affection as I can expect, all things considered."

"I mean it, though. If you tell me what happened, I can see that someone's punished. You _are_ my brother, Matt." Alfred shifted so he could sit facing Matthew, and put a hand on his shoulder. "You've always helped me, even though you have no reason to, so if there's something I can do for you, tell me. Please."

"You can't do anything. You're not the King yet," Matthew said, and shrugged the hand away.

"But I will be in a year!"

"So you'll wait a year to punish someone for bruising me a little? It's a split lip and some some sore fingers, Alfred, not a mortal wound." He sounded cross again, but Alfred couldn't stop himself from pressing the issue.

"At least tell me what happened! You don't have to tell me names, but if it's something I can stop from happening again I will!"

"Can you stop people from talking? No. It was stupid, all right? One of the other boys was picking on me for something and it struck a nerve and I hit him and he hit back. He's got better aim than I do, that's for certain." Matthew flexed his hand again and shook the tension out.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing that bears repeating."

"But it upset you?"

"No, I hit him because I was happy about it."

Alfred pressed his lips together, and looked down at his lap. "Was it about your mother?"

Matthew was quiet for a while, then snorted and rolled his shoulders. "In a roundabout sort of way, I guess. But don't worry about it. I won't get picked on again, not with the threat of- well, I just don't think they'll do it again?"

"They? It was a group of them?"

"Let it go, Alfred. It's done. You didn't come down here to hear my problems. You wanted to talk about Arthur."

That made all of Alfred's nervousness return, and he crossed his arms over his middle. He glanced sideways at Matthew, who was rubbing his palms over his knees and watching the cats on the floor with a small smile on his face. The orange one was grooming the fat one, giving him nips and warning growls every time he attempted to wiggle away. Eventually the fat one gave up and rolled onto his back again, letting himself be licked chest to chin, swooshing his tail through the dirt and loose straw every now and then. Alfred almost envied the dumb animals; it would be nice to sleep and hunt all day, laying in the sun and chasing a playmate whenever things got too boring. Actually, it wasn't much different than what Alfred got to do as future King, and he felt guilt settle low in his stomach when he thought of how different Matthew's life was. He was sitting next to his brother, asking for his help, but he was so vastly privileged in comparison it seemed absurd that their needs shouldn't be reversed. But Matthew was right- Alfred wasn't King, and he couldn't help, not yet, and Alfred had questions he needed answered in the mean time.

"Does it hurt very much?" he asked quietly, and winced.

"What this?" Matthew held out his hand. "Not really. One of the kitchen girls gave me a crème that numbs everything, so it's not so bad."

Alfred fidgeted and cleared his throat. "No, not that. I meant... I meant making love." He dug his fingernails into his sides and hope his face wasn't too red, but like all the other questions he'd ever asked, Matthew took it in stride.

"It depends," he said bluntly, but spared Alfred the shame of eye contact. "When I was with Kath- I mean, when I was with the girl she did bleed a little. She said it hurt at first, but she didn't cry or anything."

"But that was with a girl. Arthur and I aren't girls, so..."

Again, Matthew didn't balk at the question, though it did take him a little longer to collect his thoughts."It's not so different. Well, it is, but... you do know how-?"

"Yes!" Alfred cut him off. He understood what could happen between two men. King Francis was equally kind about answering his questions, if not significantly more descriptive. It was bad enough on paper, so Alfred didn't need to hear it said out loud. He just need to be reassured that it wouldn't be excruciating or awful.

"It might. It shouldn't, if you're careful and do everything slowly." Matthew shook his head rapidly and rubbed his eyes. "I mean, _I _don't know anything about it first hand. That's just what I... hear."

"Oh. All right, then." Alfred wasn't sure what else to say, so he waited for any further advice.

"But, Alfred- and don't take this the wrong way- you shouldn't do anything that you can't even discuss without getting embarrassed. You have to talk about it first, and if you can't do that, then you aren't ready. I wasn't much older than you when I did any of this, and I know I wasn't ready at all."

"You weren't?" It was a relief to hear that Matthew had made mistakes and had doubts.

"No, not in hindsight. So don't do anything you feel unsure about, but if you do want something, there are other ways you can share that, other things you can do. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes." Alfred hunched his shoulders up. He knew what other things Matthew was talking about, and while those didn't seem quite as scary, they still made his face feel hot. "I won't do anything without thinking it through or talking to Arthur about it first."

"Just do what your gut tells you. Don't overcomplicate things. If it's right, it will work out." Matthew clapped him awkwardly on the back and was about to pull away, but Alfred hugged him about the neck. It took a few moments for Matthew to stiltedly return the embrace.

"Thank you. I don't know what I would do with out you."

"A lot of stupid things, I suppose. Both of you." Matthew pulled away and shoved Alfred teasingly. "Now get out of here. I have work to do."

Alfred jumped from his seat with a grin, upsetting the cats with the sudden movement, feeling more confident about the situation with Arthur, even if he wasn't completely sure what to do next. He dusted the back of his trouser off and made to leave, waving over his shoulder to Matthew as he did so.

"Oh! And one more thing, Alfred," Matthew called when he was in the doorway of the barn.

"Hmm?"

"Happy birthday."

* * *

><p>Arthur hid out in the library all afternoon. He felt cowardly, but he needed time to gather his thoughts after the scolding Matthew had given him. Matthew was right, of course; Arthur was being selfish and impulsive. Whether he realised he was doing it or not, he was pressuring Alfred and being uncommunicative and that would only lead to more trouble. Arthur curled himself into one of the window seats and replayed Matthew's lecture in his head.<p>

He'd been injured, but he wouldn't tell Arthur what had happened. It stung, to not be trusted enough to be let in on Matthew's private hurts. He was probably trying to teach Arthur a lesson, showing him that choosing to be walled off to the people who cared was a mistake. It was rejection all over again, and Arthur was getting sick of it. He owned up to the fact that he needed to be respectful of Alfred's boundaries, but he wasn't too fond of his best friend keeping secrets from him.

When he finally felt he could put it off no longer, Arthur went down to his room to change for supper. He half-expected Alfred to be sitting on his bed, either furious or contrite, but there was nothing but a long box wrapped in ribbon on Arthur's desk. It was Alfred's present; Anne must have wrapped it while Arthur was wallowing, and that made Arthur feel even guiltier for his behaviour. He just couldn't manage to please anyone he came in contact with. All he needed was for Yao to be mad at him and he'd have disappointed everyone he knew in the palace.

Yao didn't seem to care much about him either way when he arrived at the private dining room and took his place at the table. Alfred was already seated as well, but he looked up at Arthur and smiled. It wasn't forced or worried, so Arthur allowed himself a small smile in return and murmured "happy birthday". It was a quiet meal, but not the uncomfortable affair Arthur had been convinced it would be. Yao proposed a brief toast to Alfred's health and well-being in the year before his coronation, allowing Alfred to partake in some wine, and then no one really had the desire to talk as the food was brought out. Arthur's mouth watered from the smell of hot bread, and veal with summer vegetables drenched in butter and rosemary. Unthinkingly, Arthur spooned the tomatoes off of his plate and onto Alfred's, not realising how odd and intimate it looked until he felt Yao's gaze boring into him. He felt his cheeks flush, but if Yao thought it anything other than intriguing he didn't say anything, instead arching his eyebrows briefly before draining the remaining wine in his cup. Alfred hardly noticed the exchange, too focused on eating to see beyond the edges of his plate.

After supper, they were treated to fluffy slices of sponge cake covered in strawberries and drizzled with melted chocolate. Arthur ate only a few bites before he felt full from the richness, but neither Alfred or Yao seemed to have any issues indulging. Yao popped one last strawberry slice into his mouth and savoured the sweetness before he gestured for a servant to hand him a black velvet box the size of a modest book. He laid it gingerly next to Alfred and opened it.

"This was your father's," he said quietly as Alfred lifted out a large silver pocket watch in the shape of a spade. "I was going to wait until your coronation to give it to you, but I thought it might serve better as an inspiration throughout this year. I know you were not always fond of your father's- shall we say- _policies_, but it is still the mark of a King, and you should have it."

Alfred turned it over in his hands a few times, brushing the intricate scrollwork designs engraved into the silver, and running the chain through his fingers. Arthur could hear the steady pulse and tick of the watch, see the jumping black hands march along the delicately painted number on the face.

"Thank you, Yao. This... this does mean quite a bit to me, and I hope I'm worthy enough to wear it."

That surprised Arthur. He'd expected Alfred to set it back in the box and hide it away somewhere, put off by the fact that the watch had belonged to the very man whose messy relationships had cost Alfred any semblance of normalcy growing up. Alfred had outwardly declared that he wished to be the opposite of his father in many aspects of his life and reign, but he placed it tenderly back in the box with a melancholy grin, admiring the face one last time before he shut it away.

"I'm sure you will be," Yao said, and bowed his head slightly.

"I'm sure you'll hold me to it," Alfred retorted with a laugh.

Arthur cleared his throat, and laid his hands flat on the table. "Alfred? I also have a gift for you. It's not nearly as grand as what Yao has done, but if you'd care to see it?"

Alfred smiled radiantly. "Of course I would!"

"We'll need to set it up in your room," Arthur said sheepishly, hoping that Alfred wouldn't jump to conclusions about what that implicated. He only smiled again and leapt up with an "all right!"

After they were both excused, Arthur retrieved the box from his room and brought it to Alfred's. They rarely spent time in his room, but Arthur had no idea why. It was larger even than Arthur's, with tall windows that opened out over the gardens, overstuffed furniture and a formidable looking writing desk. There was still a trunk in the corner, the one that Arthur knew held some of Alfred's old toys and childhood possessions, and it made him smile to think that the little toy soldiers and painted horses were kept safe even though they were out of sight, replaced by books and maps.

Alfred sat waiting on his bed and that made Arthur nervous. He knew nothing was meant by it, but it was a reminder that they'd have to have an uncomfortable conversation soon.

"I'm sorry for being such a prat earlier. And for not seeing you until supper. And for not wishing you a proper happy birthday. So... happy birthday." Arthur rushed through his apology and contritely held out the box, fumbling because of the weight as he handed it off. Alfred set it on the bed and stood, throwing his arms around Arthur's neck.

"I'm sorry, too! I talked to Matt and he said you did, too, and that we're both being ridiculous and I'm sorry that I made you feel badly about it all. I promise it's not going to be like before."

Arthur placed his hands on Alfred's waist, but shook his head. "No, you didn't do anything wrong! I'm the one that needs to-" He was cut off by a kiss and then Alfred pulled away, smiling and running his fingertips through the hair at the nape of Arthur's neck.

"Let's not argue about this right now. I-"

"I'm not arguing! But we have to-"

"Arthur, it's fine! Now, I want to open my present!" Alfred kissed Arthur's cheek and sat back down on his bed, leaving Arthur feeling uneasy. Maybe it was that simple: they'd both apologized and said they'd work on it and now they could move on. It didn't feel right, though. It didn't feel as if they'd actually talked about anything.

"Whoa! Arthur, this is amazing! Thank you!" He'd opened the box and pushed away the tissue paper inside to reveal the reflective brass of a telescope. Alfred stroked the barrel reverently.

"I can't take credit for the idea. Yao thought you might like it, given your interests." Arthur shrugged and looked at his feet. "I know it's nothing compared to everything you've given me, but..."

"No! It's perfect!" Alfred pulled out a scroll of paper wrapped in more ribbon. "What's this?"

"It's a star chart. So you can tell what you're looking at. There's a stand for the telescope in there as well. If you don't like it, you don't have to pretend-"

"Arthur!" Alfred half-laughed, half-shouted. "Stop worrying. I love it!" He took the box and scroll over to his desk, unrolling the chart delicately and weighing down the corners with inkwells and pens. "This is incredible." He traced a constellation with his pointer finger, bending to read the label beneath it, and mouthing the name to himself. He looked back to Arthur, a childish grin lighting up his eyes in a way that made Arthur's heart sing. "I can't wait to use this! Honestly, it's incredible."

"All right, all right." Arthur shuffled his feet and crossed his arms, but smiled down at the floor. "You don't have keep trying to convince me. I'm... I'm very pleased you like it." He bit his lip and looked Alfred in the eye. He was getting flustered, but if he was going to be more honest about how he felt, he may as well start now. "I didn't really know what to get you, I... well, I'd do anything for you, if it would make you, er, happy." It was difficult to maintain eye-contact when he felt like covering his face to hide his fierce blush, but it was worth it to see the expression on Alfred's face. He was surprised, but happy, happier than Arthur had ever seen him, and it seemed silly that all it had taken was saying something that Arthur thought Alfred already knew.

Alfred was trying to clamp down on his excitement, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet and chewing on his lip through his smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but smiled again instead and rubbed the back of his neck. Slowly, he rolled the star chart back up and tied it closed, placing it inside the box with the telescope, folding the tissue paper down and putting the lid on top.

He looked back at Arthur and approached him cautiously, eyes flicking up and down as if he expected Arthur to bolt at any second. It took some gentle prying for Arthur to unfold his arms and take Alfred's hand, but the blood was still rushing in his ears.

"Well, um, you know I feel the same way and if that's the case then can I ask you for something?"

Arthur shivered as Alfred began stroking up and down his wrist, and he hoped he couldn't feel how frantic his pulse had become. He had to swallow several times before he felt like he could speak without his voice cracking, and even then he could only manage two syllables.

"Of course."

Then could you..." Alfred looked equally unsure now, but squared his shoulders. "... could you maybe stay? I mean, stay here with me tonight?"

"We'll get caught." That was the only response Arthur could manage in his nervousness.

"We won't. And if we are, we'll say it was accident. You fell asleep and I let you stay. That used to happen all the time, remember?"

"This won't be the same, Alfred. You know it won't." Arthur could feel disaster looming over them, but it was hard to outright refuse when Alfred was being the instigator for once.

"Good. I don't want it to be the same."

And then Alfred was kissing him and he hadn't been at all prepared, too much sensation and not enough oxygen or reason to make him stand firm in his refusal. Alfred's arms were around his neck again and Arthur was kissing back and that was the end of it.

"So will you stay? Please?"

"Put out the lamps first."

* * *

><p>Alfred felt like he was falling even though he was firmly pinned to his bed. It was intoxicating and terrifying to be kissed like this, held close, held down and with barely any space for breath or thought. They'd opened the windows because it was so warm, but it hadn't relieved the heaviness of the air at all. Now it was worse because Alfred could smell the sickly sweet blooms of the vine on the trellis outside his window, viscous and pervasive, and it made him even more light-headed and nauseous than he was from nerves.<p>

They'd both lost their jackets and waistcoats at some point, and Arthur was missing both his stockings. Alfred had only managed to peel one off before he found himself occupied with better things, namely stroking the back of Arthur's bare knee beneath his breeches and remembering to breathe as Arthur hovered above him on all fours.

Arthur stopped kissing him and got upright enough to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Everything was dark and fuzzy, since there was hardly a moon and Alfred had taken off his spectacles when they'd proved to be an obstacle to their fumbling. He couldn't see Arthur's eyes and that bothered him, but he still so desperately wanted the feeling and closeness of it all. It was just as frightening as he'd imagine it would be, but it was vastly more wonderful, and he tugged at the bottom of Arthur's shirt until he bent back down to steal his breath away. They bumped noses painfully, and that set Alfred to giggling. Arthur took it in stride and mouthed across his cheek and down his neck. Alfred shivered and gasped and clung to Arthur's shoulders. He could feel heat spreading from the tips of his ears down to his chest, but a more concerning warmth was growing in his lower belly and groin. Alfred almost had the good sense to be embarrassed until he remembered that it was to be expected in a situation like this, and it was what he had wanted after all.

"What do want me to do?" Arthur breathed wetly, in his ear. His voice was thick and scratchy sounding, and the question wasn't so much sensual as it was genuinely curious.

"I don't know. I don't know." He knew all the things they _could_ do, but couldn't catch a solid thought of what he wanted. He simply wanted more. "I don't know. Just this. I don't know." The words came out half-mouthed and silent, but Arthur seemed to understand.

After a few more moments of frantically holding on to Arthur's shirt, Alfred's hands found his way underneath the fabric and to the small of his back. Arthur jolted and hung his head, making a sound low in his throat. Alfred ran his fingers above the waistband of Arthur's breeches just to watch his reaction, gratified when Arthur's arms shook and he nearly collapsed against him, unable to support himself any longer. There was more graceless fumbling and rearranging until they found a borderline comfortable position on their sides, foreheads bumping and legs tangling in their frenzy to stay close.

The desperate sensation grew rapidly as they inexpertly jostled against one another, and Alfred almost laughed in thinking how silly they must have looked. But he hardly cared when he felt Arthur's palm pressed flat against his stomach beneath his shirt. There was no denying now that he was hard, but if Arthur noticed, he was choosing not to do anything about it. Alfred couldn't help but to rock his hips forward, and Arthur faltered and nipped at his bottom lip in retaliation. The hand between them might have been to tease, a promise of contact where Alfred needed it most, or it could have been a barrier, but Alfred was inclined to think it was the former as the heat of Arthur's hand slipped lower and lower. He stopped right above the opening of Alfred's trousers, the heel of his hand digging in slightly against the soft flesh there.

Alfred groaned loudly and tried to grind against that hand, but had no purchase. The angle was wrong, the position too high, and Alfred was too bashful to simply grab Arthur's hand and move it where he wanted it. He couldn't tell if Arthur was hard yet, and he didn't know how to escalate the situation, or if he even wanted to. Alfred's fidgeting turned into blatant rutting, and Arthur seemed to allow it, pressure building and temperature soaring as Alfred lost track of how long they'd been at it. It could have been moments, or it could have been forever.

All he knew was that suddenly Arthur's hand slipped, or he'd move it on purpose, and it cupped between Alfred's legs. It was too much, too close, and he was too hard and young and frustrated. There was the brief satisfaction of moving against Arthur's hand, and then a horrific flash of pleasure. Alfred's gasp turned into a mangled shout as he realised what was happening, but he could do nothing to stop it. He shivered violently, then lay still, an unpleasant stickiness spreading across his groin.

Arthur froze as well, mouth still half on Alfred's. He inhaled raggedly and pulled away, bracing himself on an elbow. He looked down at Alfred with a concerned and panicked expression, and Alfred could already tell that everything was ruined.

"Did you just...?"

His face felt so hot that he was disappointed he didn't melt away into nothingness, a much better alternative than facing the humiliation of having finished with barely a touch.

"I'm sorry, I-" He could barely speak, voice high and tight. Tears started to blur his vision further and he pushed Arthur away and scrambled off of the bed, barrelling into his bathing room.

Utterly mortified, he avoided his reflection in the mirror and poured some water in the basin, spilling some in his frantic attempt to clean himself off.

"It wasn't... I didn't want... I'm sorry! I couldn't-" Alfred wasn't able to form a thought, feeling the need to apologise and hide and cry and yell all at the same time. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be romantic and passionate and controlled. Alfred wasn't supposed to ruin everything by being too eager and showing just how inexperienced he was.

By the time Alfred returned to his bedroom, Arthur was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I apologize for the long hiatus. This story is getting near the home-stretch, so I hope there's still an interest. **

**Please read my profile for information regarding changes I will be making due to the recent story deletions on this site. It will affect updates to all of my stories. **


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